The Sorcerer's Bride
by RLD Flame-point Callie-co
Summary: AU in which Merlin is a prince, Morgana isn't evil, and they're forced to marry to secure a peace treaty between their kingdoms. They try to make the best of their situation, and maybe they'll even find love in the process.
1. Battlefield Nightmare

**Disclaimer: Not my castle, I'm just playing in it.**

**Pairing(s): eventual Morgana/Merlin, possible Gwen/Arthur or Gwen/Lancelot.**

**Notes: So, I've read a few royal!Merlin AUs lately and decided I'd like to play with the idea myself. However, the main character of this story is going to be Morgana. This story will also feature Morgana/Gwen bff-ness, a not-dead Balinor, and more dragons besides Kilgharrah, because if there was a kingdom where magic ruled and dragons were welcomed, they probably wouldn't have died out. Now on with the story.**

Arthur Pendragon swept his sword up and around in an arc, forcing his opponent's blade out to the side, then slipped in close and smashed his elbow into the other knight's face, knocking him down with the force of his blow. The man's helmet went flying when he hit the ground, exposing an olive-toned face surrounded by a tangle of longish dark hair - a face Arthur knew well. It was Lancelot, leader of the knights of Dagon, Camelot's sworn enemy for the better part of three years.

_Kill him, and this can all end tonight._ Eliminating the enemy commander would still leave the kingdom of Dagon's _unnatural_ weaponry to contend with, but said weapons would be no use when the army meant to wield them was leaderless.

Arthur planted his foot on the other knight's chest to pin him down and kicked away his dropped sword. The blade glowed blue when Arthur's boot connected with it, giving the young Pendragon an unneeded reminder of exactly why destroying Dagon was so necessary. Magic had permeated that accursed land to its very core, corrupting the kingdom and everyone in it.

Bearing that in mind, Arthur raised his sword to strike a fatal blow, thinking that Lancelot was oddly calm for someone who was about to die. He wasn't even watching Arthur; instead, his eyes were fixed on the blue-black night sky above. Stranger yet, a smile was playing at the corners of his mouth. _What the . . ._

Arthur glanced heavenward just in time to see a pair of massive lizard-like shapes gliding in from the west on huge batwings. _Dragons!_ For a while now, there'd been rumors circulating throughout Camelot that Dagon's ruler had some sort of connection with or power over the legendary creatures - rumors which had just been upgraded to facts.

"Look out!" Arthur shouted to his men, but his warning was drowned out by a thunderous roar. It wouldn't have mattered if anyone had heard him; no one could move fast enough to evade the gouts of flame spewing from both dragons' mouths.

Several knights were immediately engulfed, and Arthur watched in horror as his men were roasted inside their own heated suits of armor. Their foes, on the other hand, didn't seem to be showing any ill effects from the dragon fire; their armor must have been enchanted for heat resistance.

Arthur snatched up a spear dropped by one of Camelot's fallen knights and hurled it at the larger dragon. The weapon soared through the air with deadly accuracy, heading straight for the beast's heart . . . and then abruptly veered off course. Arthur felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise - it was a windless night except for an occasional feeble puff of a breeze, so that _had_ to be magic.

Sure enough, a man with glowing golden eyes stood behind him, hand upraised. Arthur recognized him immediately - Merlin, son of the dragonlord-king Balinor of Dagon, and a powerful sorcerer in his own right. He was rather lousy with a sword, though.

Emboldened by that knowledge, Arthur charged at Merlin and struck him on the side of his head with the flat of his sword's blade, stunning him. He then flipped the sword over and brought it down on the warlock's neck . . . or tried to.

Dazed from the blow to the head he'd just taken, Merlin couldn't remember a single spell that might be helpful, couldn't even move fast enough to get out of the way of the blade that was about to sever his head. Luckily his magic was so strong that he didn't always need spells. Next thing he knew, Arthur Pendragon was flying backward . . . and crashing with an earsplitting clang of armor on armor into Lancelot, who had tried to come to Merlin's aid, only to end up pinned underneath Camelot's crown prince. _Clumsy idiot!_ Merlin berated himself. _Now Lancelot's probably hurt and it's all my fault! _

When Arthur came at him again - after rendering Lancelot unconscious by slamming his head against the ground - Merlin was ready. He magically heated Arthur's sword, forcing him to drop it. Disarmed, Arthur lunged at his enemy and caught the slighter male in a chokehold. "Call off your dragons," he hissed in his ear, "and I may let you live."

Merlin shook his head. He wouldn't become a dragonlord until Balinor died - he couldn't call off the dragons even if he wanted to.

With a growl of frustration, Arthur punched Merlin in the head for the second time that night, knocking him senseless and carelessly dropping his limp form. Much as he'd like to finish him off while he couldn't cheat by using magic, there were more pressing problems - the dragons, for instance. They had been hit multiple times by spears and arrows from those of Camelot's knights who were still standing, but nothing seemed to be hurting the magical creatures.

_Magical . . . _Inspiration struck Arthur. He stuck his foot underneath Merlin, flipped him onto his side so that his scabbard was more easily accessible, and relieved the unconscious warlock of his enchanted sword.

The smaller of the two dragons was circling around, swooping down low to flame at a group of knights who had thus far avoided the fire by taking shelter under their shields. Arthur ran toward them, pushing aside a knight who tried to cover him with his shield, and thrust Merlin's sword upward as the dragon dipped down out of the sky. For one heart-stopping moment, Arthur's vision was entirely filled with the beast's iridescent blue-scaled underside, as if the sky had come down on his head; then that unearthly cerulean was pierced by a flash of gold as the magical blade sank deep into the dragon's flesh.

The creature drew back with an earsplitting shriek, beating its wings franticly to pull itself back up into the air, but the damage was done. Blood poured to earth like crimson rain as the dragon rose unsteadily. The other dragon, the bigger golden one, abandoned its attempts at exterminating Camelot's archers and flew toward its fellow, presumably to try to help it somehow, though there was obviously nothing to be done. Another moment and the blue dragon plummeted like a stone.

Men, Camelot's and Dagon's alike, scrambled to get out of the way of the gargantuan falling body. An unlucky few didn't make it and were crushed to death instantly. Sir Leon, Arthur's second-in-command, was almost clipped by one of the dying monster's tail spikes. Arthur shoved him out of harm's way, and the spike came down on him instead.

Pain exploded inside Arthur's mind as his armor and his back were torn open by the spike's sharp edges, his shoulder crushed by its sheer weight. Then everything went dark.

###

Miles away, in the royal palace of Camelot, the Lady Morgana bolted upright in her bed with a scream. "Arthur! No!"

**Sorry for the shortness and lack of Morgana till the very end. This is just a teaser/prologue of sorts to test the water, and it took me long enough to write this much. Battle scenes - not exactly my strongest point, especially when I'm trying to imagine magic vs. conventional weaponry. On that note, if Merlin and Arthur were enemies, Arthur would beat Merlin's butt even if he was allowed to use his magic - Merlin's just too much a klutz and lacks Arthur's killer instincts, as shown in the episode with the unicorn.**

**I'll update when I can find time. Reviews will encourage me to look for time (hint, hint). **


	2. Are We the Waiting

**Longer chapter this time! I must say, I really didn't expect such a positive response, especially not for something so short. So, I'm definitely continuing this; I'll try to update at ****least**** once every three weeks. Just be a little patient with me, please - I have a somewhat busy life outside of fanfiction. **

**Shout-outs: darkgemwildcat, who encouraged me to begin working on this in the first place and has a great piece of M/M fiction called Set in Stone (read it!), and Queen morgan la fay - chatting with her has really helped my creative process. Thanks, guys...er, gals! **

_Miles away from the battlefield, in the royal palace of Camelot, the Lady Morgana bolted upright in her bed with a scream. "Arthur! No!"_

Gwen, who had been sleeping in the maid's quarters adjacent to Morgana's chambers, rushed to her mistress's bedside. "My lady?"

Morgana threw her arms around her maid. "Oh, Gwen, I saw the most horrible thing . . ."

"Pay it no mind, milady," Gwen urged her. "It was only a dream, after all."

Morgana pulled away, held Gwen at arm's-length and stared up into her eyes, frowning. "It did not feel like a dream, Gwen. It felt _real_."

Gwen took both Morgana's hands; they were ice-cold, so she tried to rub some warmth into the lady's pale skin. "Whatever you dreamed, it was _not_ real, Morgana. You can tell me about it if that would make you feel better, though. Just let me build up the fire first - you're freezing."

One of the royal menservants had stacked logs in the fireplace earlier in the evening, so all Gwen had to do was add kindling and light it. Morgana offered to help, but Gwen insisted that she stay in her bed - lighting the fire was not a difficult task - and so she did, hugging her knees and shivering.

When the flames were high and hot enough she and Gwen sat down on a thick rug in front of the hearth, tugging their long nightgowns - Morgana's a fine, pure white silk, Gwen's a rough, off-white homespun cotton - over their feet to keep them warm, the way they used to do when they were ten years old and Gwen was only an assistant to Morgana's maidservant/nurse. (This, of course, was before Morgana put her foot down and informed Uther in no uncertain terms that she was too old for a nursemaid.) Then Morgana began recounting her nightmare.

"I saw a field on the outskirts of the kingdom, the place the knights set off for last week in search of Dagon's army. They found them, but they weren't alone. They had- Gwen, they were accompanied by a pair of dragons!"

Gwen gasped. Everyone had heard the rumors that King Balinor was somehow able to control the fearsome beasts, try as Uther might to suppress such stories, calling them alarmists' attempts to spread groundless fears among the people. "Dragons! Morgana! Uther would say-"

"I know what Uther would say - that I've been listening to ignorant conspiracy theorists." Morgana waved her hand impatiently. "I _have_ heard the stories - everyone has - but I saw what I saw."

"What you _dreamed_, you mean," Gwen said nervously.

Morgana continued as if she hadn't heard her. "The dragons' fire injured many of Camelot's men, but then Arthur took an enchanted sword from the prince of Dagon and dealt one of them a fatal wound."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yes, the dragon will certainly die, but when it fell from the sky . . . When it fell, Gwen, its tail landed on Arthur! And I don't know if he survived."

Gwen thought about reiterating one more time that of course Arthur had survived, because he had only been hurt _inside Morgana's head_, but decided not to waste her breath.

When Gwen stayed silent, after a moment Morgana resumed speaking. "Tonight is not the first time I've had this dream. For the past three nights I've dreamt of Arthur battling dragons and sorcerers, but I haven't seen how the fight ends before now. Oh, I wish I had seen this just a few days earlier - then perhaps I could have convinced Arthur not to go!"

"No, you couldn't," Gwen said quickly. "Uther ordered him to go, and nothing you could have said would have dissuaded him. I'm sure he'll return soon anyway."

Morgana shook her head. "The battle takes place on the night of the new moon." She glanced meaningfully at the black, moonless sky outside her window and chewed her lip.

"Stop that - you'll chap your pretty lips," Gwen chided. "Come back to bed now, and no more talk of dragons and sorcerers." She took hold of Morgana's arms, pulled her up off the floor, and steered her toward her bed.

Morgana didn't wish to go back to bed, but she obediently crawled in and allowed Gwen to fix her covers. She was more trouble than any servant should have to put up with - first she'd asked Gwen to stay in the castle with her overnight instead of going home, now she had kept her up half the night just so she could have a sympathetic ear into which to confide her latest nightmare - and she was sorry to be such a burden to her best friend. Not sorry enough to send Gwen home, though. She was too afraid of being left alone with her nightmares to do _that_.

Meanwhile, Gwen had found a bottle of Morgana's sleeping draft that was only half empty. There was probably enough left to make Morgana sleep through the rest of the night. She poured the dark purple liquid into a cup and offered it to the lady. "Drink this, it'll help you back to sleep."

"Thank you, Gwen. I don't know what I would do without you." She drained the cup and handed it back to Gwen with a grateful smile, then lay down and closed her eyes until she was sure Gwen had returned to her room. She wasn't really asleep yet, though the potion was already working - Gaius was an absolute genius.

Morgana could feel her consciousness slipping away fast, but in her last moments of awareness, she thought the night sky outside was taunting her, stubbornly remaining dark when she wanted dawn to break so that she could find out if Uther had had any news from the front lines. Then the darkness of sleep closed over her, and she thought nothing more.

###

Midday found Morgana rushing through the castle's corridors - Gwen trailing along in her wake, as usual - sweeping past a startled guard, and bursting into the chamber where Uther was conducting a meeting of his war council.

"Morgana!" her guardian exclaimed, surprised by her abrupt entrance. "You look troubled, child. Are you quite well?"

"Fine, my lord. I apologize for barging in like this; I merely wished to know if the council has had any news of Arthur and his men." She glanced beseechingly into the face of every man in the room, hoping that someone, anyone, would tell her there was no cause for worry.

It was Uther who answered her. "No news, I'm afraid. Arthur hasn't sent his report to me yet, though I am certain-"

"His messenger did not arrive in the night, then? There's been no word at all? Are you sure?" Morgana asked desperately.

Now Uther was looking at her as if he feared for her sanity. "Yes, I'm quite sure. Your concern for Arthur is touching, Morgana, but I believe it to be unfounded at present. If no word from Arthur reaches us today I shall send a courier to him tomorrow. Now, if you will excuse us, we have pressing matters to attend to."

Morgana, recognizing the dismissal, turned to go; Uther and his council returned to their debate over whether Dagon's forces might attack Camelot's main citadel magically while a large number of the knights were gone before she was out of the room.

###

"But this is a good thing, isn't it?" Gwen asked as she followed Morgana, who was storming blindly toward the courtyard, scattering servants left and right as they glimpsed her thunderous expression and decided it was in their best interests to make themselves scarce. "Uther obviously doesn't think it means anything that he hasn't heard from Arthur, and if he isn't worried I don't think we should be either - he knows more about wars than either of us do." Morgana came to a screeching halt and whirled to face Gwen, who hastily added, "Not that I meant that you're ignorant of matters of war, of course - I wouldn't say that - I-"

"Gwen, stop. I just . . . have this feeling that something's wrong, and it won't go away."

"Because of your-" Gwen lowered her voice "-nightmare?"

"Yes. I need to get out of the palace for a while; I believe some fresh air would do me good. Come for a ride with me?"

Gwen eyed her knowingly. "You want to keep watch for anyone arriving from the front lines yourself, don't you?"

Morgana admitted that she did, feeling slightly vexed that her motives had been so easily discerned. Gwen agreed to ride out with her and they proceeded to the stables, where Morgana's plans were hindered by a particularly impudent (in her opinion) stable hand.

"We're in the middle of a war, milady," he told her, as if that fact had somehow escaped her. "The king believes it may be dangerous-"

"I am well aware of what Uther believes," Morgana interrupted. "And that he's _suggested_ I stay safely within the palace walls. But a suggestion is not an order, and I am ordering you to saddle my favorite horse - _now_." She punctuated the word 'now' by narrowing her eyes dangerously.

The stable hand stuttered out something incoherent and shuffled backward toward Morgana's horse's stall, bowing as he went. Gwen shot her mistress a look that was mostly amused, but with a hint of reproach behind the amusement.

"Don't look at me like that," the lady huffed. "I _know_ it's dangerous to be about in times of war, but I also know that the only reason we are at war with Dagon is because so many of the people there have magic. If one of their sorcerers wanted to kidnap me for leverage against Uther, do you honestly believe they couldn't simply spirit me out of my bedchamber one night? I don't believe staying inside the castle is any safer than riding through the countryside."

Gwen reluctantly conceded the point, and soon she and Morgana were mounting their horses and clattering through the gates.

They rode until the cobblestones under their horses' hooves turned to a dirt road; then Morgana guided her mare off the track into a meadow. "I feel like a gallop," she explained.

"You go ahead, then; I'll meet you at that stand of trees over there." Gwen pointed out the spot and set off, skirting the meadow's edges and staying close to the trees.

Morgana rode straight across the middle of the flat, grassy expanse of land, urging her horse into a trot, then a canter, and then, with a final tap of her heels, they were galloping. Their speed snatched Morgana's breath away, tugged her hair loose from its braid and sent it whipping out behind her like a banner. Best of all, the rhythm of hoofbeats and motion and wind whistling past her ears purged her mind of everything else - the horrifying images from her nightmare and the lingering fear for Arthur that she just couldn't shake off. She closed her eyes and relaxed her grip on the reins, giving the mare her head and letting everything outside the rhythm disappear.

By the time she reached Gwen, her face slightly flushed and hair horribly tangled, she felt immeasurably better. Perhaps she could even have been persuaded to return to the castle, but instead Gwen reminded her of her original plan, so the two continued on their way and eventually came to the top of a high hill from which they could see miles down the road. Morgana declared this as good a lookout post as they were likely to find, so they dismounted, tethered their horses to a tree, and unpacked their lunch from Gwen's saddlebag.

###

"Morgana-" Gwen hesitated briefly "-maybe we should go back." Her mistress gave no answer apart from a distracted 'not yet'. Gwen walked over and took her by the shoulder, forcing her to look away from the horizon for the first time in hours. "The sun will set soon! We must be home before nightfall. Please, my lady . . ."

"Very well," Morgana sighed. She cast a last glance down the winding road - and this time spied movement in the distance. "Gwen, look there!" She ran to her horse, swung up into the saddle, and would have cantered off toward the approaching figure if Gwen hadn't grabbed her mare's bridle.

"Wait! You can't see who it is from here - it might be a bandit for all we know!"

Morgana sighed again, impatiently this time, but relaxed; her mount, sensing its rider's tension abate, became still. "You should mount up as well - if that _is_ a bandit, we may have to run for our lives."

Gwen, looking rather alarmed, followed her advice, and the two situated themselves where they could see the oncoming rider without being seen. The horse's neck appeared oddly lumpy, which Gwen mentioned in a nervous whisper. Morgana, however, didn't hear - she had just recognized the man astride the apparently deformed horse. "That's Leon!" she cried, spurring her horse. She thought she heard Gwen call after her but ignored the maid, too intent on getting to Sir Leon.

As she drew nearer she realized that there were actually two riders: Leon in the saddle and someone else wedged in front of him, someone who had passed out and was now slumped over the poor horse's neck. Morgana's heart sped up as a cold feeling of foreboding swept over her, closing her throat on the greeting she'd intended to call out once she got close enough.

Leon heard her approach and addressed her instead. "Lady Morgana? What are you doing so far from the castle?"

"I-I-"

Fortunately for her, Gwen caught up to them at that moment and distracted Leon by gasping at the sight of his unconscious fellow rider. "Oh my! Sir Leon, what happened? Who was hurt? Is he-?"

As if in response to Gwen's anxious inquiries, the man's head flopped sideways so that his face was visible. Both women gasped out loud at the uncharacteristically pale, bloodstained visage of Prince Arthur.

"Wh-what hap-p-pened?" Morgana stuttered through trembling lips, unsure if she really wanted to know.

Leon gave her an abbreviated report as they started off toward the palace together; the knights had encountered Dagon's armies the night before, more or less right where they had been said to be. What no one had had any inkling of was that a pair of dragons had joined them. Prince Arthur had fought valiantly and mortally wounded one of the beasts, but, tragically, its tail had landed on him as it collapsed, crushing his shoulder and probably breaking several bones on the right side of his body.

At this, Morgana, who had been finding it progressively harder to breathe with every word Leon spoke on the subject of last night's battle, felt her heart stop completely. _Exactly as I dreamt it, _she thought faintly. The landscape seemed to swirl weirdly before her eyes and she felt herself falling . . .


	3. Grim Prognosis

Morgana was a prisoner. Betrayed by her best friend in the world, she had been cast into a dim corner in one of her least favorite rooms in the castle and left to endure her captivity alone, abandoned and forgotten by everyone - at least that was how it felt. Perhaps she was over-dramatizing her current situation just a bit.

What had actually happened was this: when she, Gwen, and Leon reached the castle with a still-unconscious Arthur in tow, Gaius was summoned to attend the injured prince - along with a pair of burly guards, since the old physician could hardly be expected to move Arthur by himself. Before he was safely out of earshot, Gwen had opened her big mouth and told him about Morgana's slight overreaction when she heard how her foster brother had sustained his wounds.

Next thing Morgana knew, she was being whisked off to the infirmary as well, despite her protests. Gaius had deposited her on a bench in a corner of his workshop, and there she waited for his attention; Arthur, being the most seriously injured, was the physician's first priority. After him, Gaius would tend to Leon, who had several cuts and bruises - most minor, some deep, all potentially nasty if they became infected - and a sprained wrist. Nobody was paying Morgana any mind at the moment, but she wasn't allowed to leave until Gaius had seen her.

She supposed there were worse places to be held captive - the dungeons, for instance - she just didn't care for the infirmary because she had only ever come there when she was ill or, more often, in search of a drug that could give her some reprieve from her ever-worsening nightmares. _At least I am not lying on the patient's cot, like poor Arthur. _

Her view of the prince was blocked by the people clustered around him: Gaius, Uther, the guards who had carried him in, another handful of guards who were there for no discernible purpose, a couple of courtiers who had been present when Uther received the news of his son's less than glorious return . . . and the list went on. Even Gwen, who thought Arthur an arrogant bully (which, in all fairness, he sometimes was) was hovering on the edge of his crowd of concerned well-wishers.

At last, Gaius announced that he had done all he could, and a team of guards pressed forward to carry the prince to his chambers. Most of the people followed them out, including Uther; Gwen peeled away from the crowd and came to sit on the bench beside Morgana. "He hasn't regained consciousness yet," she reported. The blood had drained from her face, turning her dark skin an ashy grayish hue. "Gaius did his best, but it doesn't look good. His ribs are broken, and when his armor was removed we saw that three of them have poked through his skin-" Gwen broke off abruptly and clapped a hand to her mouth, looking like she might be sick.

Grateful that someone was being honest about her brother's condition rather than trying to spare her the grisly details that were deemed unfit for a lady's delicate ears, Morgana slid closer and put her arms around the distraught maid. She even decided to forget that she was supposed to be upset with Gwen for telling Uther how she had almost fallen off her horse earlier. _I adore Gwen, really. If only she didn't have that unfortunate tendency to babble . . . _

They sat together until Gaius returned from getting Arthur settled and treating Leon, whereupon Morgana patiently allowed him to examine her, resisting an impulse to roll her eyes and say 'I told you so' when he pronounced her perfectly healthy.

Uther frowned. "But her maid said she fainted."

"I did not _faint_!" Morgana burst out before Gaius could answer. Fainting was something brainless ninnies did to get attention from men; Morgana considered such antics far beneath her. "I . . . suffered a momentary dizzy spell when I saw the extent of Arthur's injuries, that's all; they were quite astonishing at close range. How is he, Gaius?"

"He's resting, my lady. I believe he will get better, in time."

"I assume Sir Leon told you the same things he told me regarding how Arthur came by those wounds?"

"Gaius and I have heard Sir Leon's account of the battle, yes," Uther replied somewhat uncomfortably.

Morgana waited for him to say more; when he didn't, she demanded, "Well? Today we received proof that the rumors you dismissed out of hand only yesterday are true - King Balinor is a dragonlord!"

"Yes, it seems that he is. I shall convene the war council tomorrow to discuss-"

"Discussions will do no good! How can you possibly hope to defeat a kingdom whose ruler has _dragons_ at his disposal? It is miraculous that Arthur survived at all, and I fear others will not be so fortunate."

"Indeed," Uther agreed, though his tone was much too noncommittal for Morgana's liking. "I assure you, responding to this development is my first priority. Now, you should retire for the evening - I understand that your mind must be disturbed by what you have seen and heard since Arthur and Leon's return. Perhaps Gaius can give you a calming draft?"

The physician bowed. "Of course, sire."

"I don't want any more drugs," Morgana snapped, "I want to know what we are going to do!"

"Matters of war are not the concern of a woman," Uther said sternly. "Leave me; I must confer with Gaius in private."

Morgana inclined her head in a brief deferential gesture. "Yes, my lord. Come, Gwen." She swept out of the infirmary with Gwen, who didn't want to be left behind with the king, hot on her heels.

###

Uther waited for Morgana's maid to shut the door behind her before turning to his talented physician, trusted advisor, and loyal friend. "Now that we have found a moment away from prying eyes and ears, be honest with me, Gaius. What is your prognosis regarding Arthur?"

"His injuries are serious, sire, but he will live."

"So you said. What are you not telling me?"

"His shoulder is what worries me most, sire. The bone is crushed, splintered; I had to remove several fragments. Arthur must remain in bed for at least a month while it heals, and even then I can't guarantee that the bone will reform perfectly. Certainly it will never be as strong as it once was."

"But Arthur's right arm is his sword arm!" Uther exclaimed in dismay. A lasting injury like this could seriously hamper a man in battle. If Arthur were just a knight, this wouldn't be such a problem; he could simply retire to his lands and send one of his kinsmen to take his place in Camelot's army. As crown prince, that option wasn't open to him. The people, not to mention the nobility, would never respect a ruler who couldn't even lead his armies into battle. Besides, the Pendragons had an unfortunate shortage of family members - there was no one who could take Arthur's place even if he would allow it. Uther knew he wouldn't, though; his son loved fighting and took a great deal of pride in being Camelot's best warrior. To lose that when he was still so young would crush his spirit.

Gaius cleared his throat, drawing the king's attention back to him. "If I may say so, sire, the Lady Morgana is right. This war has lasted three long years, cost hundreds of lives-"

"Regrettable, but those sacrifices were necessary! Dagon is a haven for the corruption and perversion that is magic, and magic must be eradicated!"

"At all costs? Uther, I implore you to see reason. Everywhere the lines of battle are drawn, Camelot's people have been driven from their homes, their fields ruined - I can only imagine what further damage those dragons' fire did last night! Your son is gravely wounded, perhaps beyond the possibility of total recovery, yet you know he will never stand down from battle as long as there is a war to be fought. If you do not cease this madness, Arthur will almost certainly be killed!"

Still Uther hesitated; Gaius could see that his words had struck a chord with the king, but he was far from ready to give up his old grudge. He would see ending the war as a surrender, an admittance that the Old Religion maintained too strong a presence in the world to be vanquished entirely. Fighting an urge to sigh aloud at Uther's stubbornness, Gaius tried a different tack. "Making peace with Dagon does not mean you would have to accept magic here in Camelot. King Balinor is a reasonable man who respects the rights of others to govern their own lands as they see fit. If you would only do the same, I am sure he would agree to keep the dragons and the sorcerers under his command out of your kingdom."

Uther eyed him suspiciously. "How do you know what King Balinor would or would not do, Gaius?"

"Just an educated guess, sire. If you recall, he never declared war on Camelot, not even during the time of the great purge twenty years ago."

"I am sure many magic-users who fled the purge found refuge in Dagon," Uther growled. The fact that some had escaped his net still galled him.

"Where they have not troubled our kingdom since," Gaius pointed out. "All I ask is that you think on what I've said, sire. Nothing need be decided tonight."

Uther gave a curt nod and left the physician's quarters, his mind already playing over Gaius' advice. Making peace, let alone - he almost shuddered to think of it - an alliance, with a land ruled by a dragonlord would be an outrage to his personal beliefs about magic. And yet . . . did his vendetta against magic really mean more to him than all the lives that would be lost if the war continued, now that Balinor had brought dragons into the fight? More than the life of his only son?

_Nothing could ever be more important to me than Arthur, _he realized. _Not even the eradication of sorcery._ It was a realization that might very well keep the king awake long into the night. _Perhaps I shall see if Morgana has any leftover sleeping drafts. _

**Aw, Uther has a caring side! Who knew? He just needs to show it more.**

**Next time we'll catch up with Merlin, Balinor, and maybe even a dragon or two. Raise your left hand if you like dragons! Jump up and down if you like Merlin. Raise your right hand if you wish Morgana wasn't evil. Review if you want another chapter soon-ish. Please? **


	4. We're Coming Home Again

**I should warn you, no Morgana in this chapter. There is however tons of Merlin! The main purpose of this chapter is just to give an idea of what Merlin's life in this little AU-'verse I've created is like before it gets turned upside down by our favorite seer. Also keep a lookout for some other characters who will be appearing in rather different roles than what they had on the show. **

"Glad that's over," Merlin remarked as he and Lancelot led the surviving soldiers of Dagon into the royal palace's courtyard, leaving throngs of cheering townspeople behind.

Lancelot leaned across the small distance between their horses and gave Merlin a shove that sent him slipping sideways in his saddle. "Don't be so modest, sire; they're happy to see that you've returned safely, and brought so many of our warriors back as well. Some of these men would not have survived if you hadn't been there to heal their wounds. The people are grateful to you for that."

"I did everything I could, but our physician could have done better."

Lancelot rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, sire. Look, your father's here." He pointed to where King Balinor and his courtiers were hurrying down the wide marble steps leading down from the castle's front entrance. "Go say hello."

Merlin didn't need to be told twice; Lancelot hadn't even finished speaking before Merlin nudged his horse forward. The stallion trotted right up to the base of the steps, then halted and stood stone-still while Merlin dismounted. He patted its neck and drew out a thin thread of the magic inside him to brush the animal's mind. _Good boy. You've done well, now go to your stable. Gwaine will take care of you. _ The big black warhorse shook his mane, snorted, and happily trotted away, and Merlin ran up the castle steps, meeting Balinor halfway.

"My son!" Balinor hugged the young sorcerer tightly, then stepped back to examine him. "I see you've managed to get yourself back here in one piece." He spoke gruffly, but anyone who knew him well enough could detect a note of genuine relief underneath the king's brusque facade.

"This time I did," Merlin replied breathlessly - there might be a gray streak or two appearing in the brown of Balinor's long hair and beard, but his grip was as strong as ever. "Father, I-"

Sensing that his son was about to start discussing something serious, Balinor cut him off. "Later, Merlin. All that matters right now is that you've come home."

"It's good to be back," Merlin agreed. "I've missed you, Father."

Their happy reunion was interrupted as a huge shadow fell over the courtyard. Knights, noblemen, and servants alike scrambled to get out of the way as Kilgharrah swooped down out of the sky. He landed after carefully checking to make certain he wouldn't crush anyone, folded his wings to his back, and lowered his head to Balinor's level. "We must speak, dragonlord."

Icy fingers trailed down Merlin's spine as Balinor answered in the ancient language of the dragons. Because he had yet to inherit the powers of a dragonlord, it sounded like gibberish to his ears, but still made him shiver every time he heard it. This time he wasn't shivering only because of the power he sensed in dragonspeak, though. Without understanding a word of what passed between Kilgharrah and Balinor, Merlin strongly suspected that the dragon was telling Balinor what had transpired during last night's battle - how Merlin had stupidly let Arthur Pendragon take his sword from him, how Camelot's prince had used Merlin's sword to fatally wound Pyria, the spirited blue dragon who had bravely volunteered to fight the forces of Camelot along with Kilgharrah . . . how Merlin hadn't been able to save her. No one else blamed him for that; as Lancelot often said, even the great Emrys couldn't always save everyone. Then there was the fact that human magic was usually too weak to have any effect on a creature as powerful as a dragon. Merlin certainly hadn't expected that the experimental spell he'd used on his sword would be strong enough to end a dragon's life. The circumstances of Pyria's death were just a catastrophic coincidence, really.

Even so, Merlin didn't know whether Kilgharrah was angry with him . . . or if Balinor would be. After all, as a dragonlord, Balinor would feel Pyria's loss as keenly as the loss of one of his own kin.

Finally Kilgharrah spread his wings, leapt skyward, and flew away. When he was well over the castle's tallest spire, Lord Eldric asked in a hushed tone, "What news did the Great Dragon have, sire?"

"Kilgharrah informed me that one of his sisters fell in battle last night," Balinor answered, raising his voice so that anyone interested in what he had to say - everybody in the courtyard, in other words - would be able to hear. This announcement was greeted with horrified gasps, and one noblewoman actually fainted. Dragons were regarded (from a safe distance, of course) with a kind of reverence because of their power and the wisdom they gathered over their centuries-long lifespans, but they were also feared, and nobody in the general population of Dagon particularly liked them. Still, the fact remained that dragons had been a part of Dagon since the first dragonlord-king came to power almost a thousand years ago, and they ranked among the kingdom's most powerful protectors.

In a softer voice meant only for his son's ears Balinor added, "He also told me that you tried to heal her. Commendable, but that was foolish, Merlin."

Merlin, fully aware that he deserved the reprimand, ducked his head to avoid making eye contact. If one was human, attempting to cast a spell on any magical creature was risky. If the creature in question was a dragon, it was almost suicidal. Dragons' magical cores were so large that they could easily absorb a human's magic - all of it. Someone like Merlin, whose magic was as much a part of him as his blood or skin, could not survive total draining of their powers.

Of course, Merlin was no fool - he knew all about that risk and thought he had his magical core contained well enough to prevent absorption. His experiment with trying to heal Pyria, unsuccessful as it had been, had shown him that his efforts at protecting his magic were working - up to a point. A young, dying dragon was worlds away from a mature one in perfect health. _It'll be a long time before I ask Kilgharrah's permission to try enchanting him, _Merlin reflected as he climbed the staircase leading to his chambers.

His efforts at gaining tighter control over the magic that made up the core of his being were his private project - not even his tutor knew that he could expose his magic to a dragon and live to tell the tale, or that he had reduced the time needed to recover from major spellcasting to almost nothing. Even after last night's battle and all the healing he had done afterwards Merlin was barely tired, while most of the other sorcerers who had taken part in the fight were dead on their feet.

Not liking to show off how much stronger his magic was than the average warlock's, Merlin had pretended to be worn out as well - which was why he was now going to his chambers, ostensibly to get the rest his father thought he needed. Merlin went willingly - the alternative was sitting in court, listening to endless debates over what the dragons were likely to do now that one of their own had been killed (as if anyone could predict that), how Prince Arthur's discovery that it was possible to slay a dragon would affect Camelot's morale and therefore Dagon's chances in future battles, and so forth - but he had no intention of taking a nap.

###

It was lucky for Merlin that he needed no rest, for upon entering his chambers, he knew he wouldn't be getting it any time soon. Merlin's room was already occupied by his manservant and one of the maids, who were hard at work changing the bedclothes - or rather, _Freya _was hard at work changing the sheets while Will lounged in a chair with his feet propped up on Merlin's desk, 'directing' her.

The opportunity was too good to miss. Standing unnoticed in the doorway, Merlin whispered a relocation spell that caused the chair on which Will sat to vanish and reappear across the room.

Freya, startled by Will's "Oof!" when he hit the floor, spun around in a half-circle, searching for the intruder, and saw Merlin. "My lord - you've returned!" She ran over to give him a hug, which Merlin quickly returned.

Then he pushed her away, pretending to be offended. "I always do; there's no need to sound so surprised."

"_I_ told her just yesterday that you always come back," Will said loudly as he struggled to get off the floor and extricate himself from the sheet Freya had dropped on him as she ran to greet Merlin, "but she insisted on worrying anyway."

"You worried about me, Freya?"

She scoffed. "Please, pay no attention to William, Merlin. He's as full of nonsense as ever."

"Methinks she protests too much," Will countered. He pitched his voice high in what was clearly meant to be an imitation of Freya but actually sounded nothing like her. "Oh Merlin, I've missed you so . . ."

Freya's eyes flashed, and a silk pillowcase rose off Merlin's bed, twisted into a rope suitable for gagging, and wrapped itself over Will's mouth. With a small smile of satisfaction, she turned her back on him and addressed Merlin. "So, your return means you've sent Uther's army running back to Camelot, doesn't it?"

"There weren't many of them left to run anywhere after the dragons finished with them," Merlin told her, then recounted the events of the battle for what he hoped was the last time.

When he finished, Freya asked, "Do you think that a dragon falling on top of his son will convince Uther to stay on his side of the border? Or will discovering that dragons can be killed encourage him?"

Merlin sighed. "I can't say, Freya. King Uther's so ignorant that he thinks just having magic makes a person evil - there's no telling what a man like that will do."

Will got the pillowcase off his head at last. "Don't you mean a _mad_man like that, Merlin? Uther Pendragon isn't ignorant, he's insane!"

Merlin and Freya heartily agreed, but before Will could begin one of his anti-Uther diatribes he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Enter," Merlin called, and one of the servants nervously slunk into the room. He spoke to Will in an undertone, then hastily retreated. When Will turned back to the chamber's other two occupants, his face was pale and serious as the grave. Merlin suddenly knew what his manservant was going to say before Will's mouth opened - there was only one person who had this effect on the servants, and it was not Merlin or Balinor. It wasn't even Uther Pendragon, the mad magic-hater. "Go on and deliver your message, Will," he said softly.

Will gulped. "No one knows how, as usual . . . but the High Priestess is here. She wants to see you immediately."

"Of course." Nothing Will had said really surprised Merlin; there were enchantments on the castle to alert the king and anyone else he chose to include in the spell when someone very important or powerful entered, but they only worked on the High Priestess when she allowed it. She came and went as she pleased, and as she had arrived without her retainers or fanfare of any kind, it was obvious she had come for a private audience with Merlin.

"You don't think-" Freya paused, swallowed hard, and tried again. "You don't think she's still angry because you turned her down, do you sire?"

"I don't know. I explained my reasons and I _think_ she understood, although you can never be sure of anything with her. But I do think that if she wanted to kill me for defying her she would have done it already."

"Do you really think it's wise, meeting her alone?"

"I haven't got a choice, have I? Just do one thing for me, Freya - I'm asking as your friend, not your prince."

"Anything."

"If I don't come back in an hour or so, promise me you and Will will try to get her to return my body."

###

Merlin's last request to Freya had been made in jest - he didn't truly think he was about to be killed - yet he couldn't dispel the anxiety that seemed to have tied a knot in his stomach. During the course of his last encounter with the High Priestess, she'd confided that she had determined him worthy of being named her successor. Merlin, though he had appreciated the honor, had felt that becoming the leader of the Old Religion would be too much for him since he was already expected to one day rule his kingdom _and_ maintain peace between the human and dragon races; he didn't need or want more power and responsibility than that, so he had respectfully declined the High Priestess's offer.

He really did think she understood why, but the fact remained that 'no' was not a word she heard often, especially not from men. He hadn't seen her since that day, and now she had returned to Dagon (assuming she had ever left; no one really knew where she went when she was gone). Now she wanted to speak with him alone, without anyone besides the servants knowing. As Merlin hurried through the castle's most deserted corridors towards the chamber where she waited for him, he couldn't help wondering whether he was making a huge mistake.

###

The room was large, dark, drafty, and dusty, unused for years. Merlin eased the door closed silently behind him and approached the figure by the open window, his footsteps echoing in the vast empty space.

"Greetings, Prince Merlin." She waited until she heard his footfalls stop and felt his presence a short distance behind her, then turned, her tattered red skirt and intricately braided black hair swaying with her movement.

"Hello, my lady."

Merlin started to bow, but Nimueh prevented him by moving so close that he couldn't bend forward without bumping his head against her collarbone. "Now Merlin, there's no need to stand on ceremony when it's only you and I." She moved even closer, brushing her fingertips in a diagonal line across his chest, letting her hand slip beneath his black leather jacket for just a moment.

Merlin froze. Having Nimueh as his friend and sometime mentor was easy most of the time - she was knowledgeable and a very powerful sorceress from whom he could learn a lot, and he appreciated that. The fact that she was also a beautiful woman wasn't the distraction for him that it would have been for someone like Will, except when she deliberately toyed with him as she was doing now. Then it was impossible _not_ to be distracted.

He took a deep breath, realizing too late that filling his nose with her scent - sharp and cool, like the trees, mountains, and lakewater of the Isle of the Blessed, where she spent a great deal of her time - was not really helpful. He slipped out of her reach, attempting to shake his head clear. "My lady, why did you come?"

Nimueh noticed his use of the formal address, and knew why he'd done it; he was telling her not to play with him any longer. She also noticed that his voice sounded strained, and smiled inwardly - making Merlin squirm was so much _fun_. Ah well, time for more of that later; she had after all come here for a reason. "There is an urgent matter we must discuss, Merlin."

**For those readers who are going 'WTH? Is she ****crazy****?' after reading the slight Merlin/Nimueh flirtation at the end, let me assure you that ****nothing**** will ever happen between them in this fic. They're just allies and sort-of-friends, and any attraction they might have to each other is purely because they're both powerfully magical people. Or maybe Nimueh just likes making Merlin uncomfortable - she struck me as the kind of woman who'd enjoy playing with guys like that. **

**I'm in kind of a hurry right now, so I can't think up any acrobatic feats to request from you guys. You're off the hook this time, I just want to hear your thoughts on my putting in Will, Freya, and Nimueh. **


	5. Shared Foresight

**OK, I don't really like to apologize for taking too long to update, because if I did I'd be doing it all the time, but I guess I've left this fic new-chapter-less for a while. Just know that I do feel bad about that, and I haven't forgotten it. **

**News item 1: My psychology final exam is tomorrow, so wish me luck.**

**Item 2: Merry Christmas! Or Happy Holidays/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa, or any other holiday you might be celebrating. Happy New Year too, just in case I don't update again before then.**

Nimueh reached into a pouch that hung from her belt and withdrew a large crystal, smirking when she heard Merlin's sharp intake of breath. "I'm pleased to see you recognize the Crystal of Neahtid."

"Of course I recognize it - I've seen it once before."

"Yes, I remember. You were very brave, venturing into enemy territory alone to prevent the crystal from falling into the hands of Uther Pendragon. Looking back on that night, I can't recall if I ever thanked you properly for bringing it to me." She gave him a suggestive smile.

Merlin retreated a few paces. "Your gratitude is all the thanks I require, my lady."

"Is it really? How noble. But I have a better reward in mind." Mouth curved into a devious, almost predatory smirk, Nimueh advanced on Merlin, who backed up until an inconveniently placed wall halted his progress. Then she swiftly closed the distance between them until they were separated only by an arm's length and extended her hand, the Crystal of Neahtid cradled in her palm. "You needn't run from me, Merlin, I only want to share with you what the crystal has shown me."

Merlin remained plastered against the wall. "I've heard that the crystal never shows the same vision twice."

"That is true . . . most of the time. I feel fairly confident that this time will be an exception, as what I saw concerns you most intimately." Nimueh again proffered the crystal.

Merlin gulped. "I . . . I don't think I should. I've also heard that seeing the future is sometimes less a gift than a curse."

Nimueh sighed and slowly lowered her arm to her side, noticing as she did so that Merlin's eyes stayed fixed on the crystal. His magic was drawn to it; she could almost taste its pull on him in the air. "Very well, although I've never met with so much rejection - certainly not from a single man - you need not look into the crystal . . ." She moved away from him, paused just long enough to hear Merlin's sigh of relief, then went on. ". . . If you can tell me with complete honesty that your heart does not desire to know what is to come."

She threw a sharp glance over her shoulder and saw that her favorite sorcerer appeared as thoroughly caught as a rabbit in a trap - even knowing he might be better off not seeing the future, he still wanted to. She knew it. He knew she knew it.

Merlin nervously licked his lips, then came forward and stopped directly behind Nimueh. "Give me the crystal."

She spun on her heel, once again intruding on his personal space, bringing their faces a bit too close for comfort, but this time he didn't back down.

"Whatever it is you think I need to see, show me." He held out his hand, impatient now.

"As you wish, sire." She pressed the crystal into his hand.

Merlin raised it to eye level, stared into its depths, focused all his mind and magic on it. The crystal lit up from within, emitting a soft golden glow, and an image formed on its surface. Merlin brought the crystal closer to his face, and the pictures began shifting rapidly; first he saw a messenger bearing a white flag, then a woman with pale green eyes and even paler skin, black hair cascading in waves down her back, who knelt before an austere stone monolith, sobbing as though her heart had been broken. Merlin felt a strange urge to reach out to her, comfort her if he could . . .

. . . And then she was gone, replaced by a vision of himself standing over Arthur Pendragon's bed. The prince's eyes were closed, his shoulder bound up in a sling, his face pale and sweaty, and Merlin's hand was outstretched as if he were about to perform magic.

Then this image too vanished, and Merlin found himself looking at his father, who stood in a small tower room with . . . King Uther? "What _is_ this?" Merlin exclaimed.

Uther's voice floated out of the magical stone. _"Then let this arrangement put an end to the strife between our lands." _

_"Very well," _Balinor agreed. _"From this day forth, we will be allies." _

###

Morgana jolted awake, not terrified this time, merely startled and incredulous. The bearded king she'd seen in her dream was unknown to her, yet somehow she sensed that he was Balinor, dragonlord and king of the land of Dagon, and . . . a future ally of Camelot? _I can hardly dare to believe it, but I cannot deny that if it were possible, I would wish for an end to this cruel war. I _do_ wish for it. This is one dream I wouldn't mind coming true - at least not that part. _

The other part, where she had seen the prince of Dagon entering Arthur's chambers and working some sort of spell on him, gave her pause. _I suppose it makes all the difference whether that part happens before or after the war ends - if it is after, then he can't mean Arthur any harm. Still, can I really trust a sorcerer near my brother while he's in such a vulnerable state?_

Morgana resolved to keep her eyes open, and if the prince of Dagon ever showed his face within the castle walls, she would mark every step he made more closely than would his own shadow. She rolled over and fell asleep stroking the handle of a jeweled dagger Arthur had given her on her last birthday.

###

At the same moment that Morgana was fondling her knife and trying to postpone dwelling on the meaning of her dream until morning, Merlin was also reeling from the exact same vision. "Why show me this?" he asked Nimueh. "Is this going to happen, or do I have to make it happen - or stop it from happening? I don't understand."

"Either course of action is open to you," the High Priestess replied. "Now that his only son has been so badly wounded, Uther finds he grows weary of war. His envoy will arrive soon to ask for a truce; when that happens, you may well be able to influence your father's decision."

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it? We can finally end the fighting - no one else will have to die in this war."

"True. But, Merlin, you do not know Uther Pendragon as I do. He is a conniving, duplicitous man. If he is willing to end the war, you may be sure there will be some price to pay, and it will be a heavy one."

"So you're saying I should discourage my father from making the alliance? Are you set against it, Nimueh?"

"I will never ally myself with Camelot while Uther sits on its throne," Nimueh hissed. "You, on the other hand - you must do what you think is best for your kingdom and for yourself. I only hope you do not live to regret it, as I did." Dropping the Crystal of Neahtid back into her pouch, she walked quickly toward the window. Her form shrank and changed and a moment later, the High Priestess of the Old Religion flew away in the shape of a blackbird.

Merlin watched until she was out of sight, then shut the window. _Nimueh might be infuriatingly cryptic - though she's not nearly as bad as the dragons - and she might delight in making me uncomfortable . . . but I can't deny that she's quite impressive. _

###

Uther's messenger arrived at the end of the week, as the crystal had foretold, and Balinor gathered his council to make sure that the answer he sent back to the king of Camelot was the one his subjects wanted. Their reactions were mixed: almost everyone was in favor of peace, but a few were suspicious of Uther's motives. One bitter old lord whose son had fallen in battle suggested returning the messenger's severed head to Uther and sending an assassin to remove Prince Arthur's head for good measure, but no one else supported this idea after Merlin pointed out that it would be counterproductive in the extreme.

After hours of debate, Balinor announced that he would meet with Uther in an abandoned old keep that sat right on the border between their two kingdoms - as close to neutral ground as they were likely to find - and see whether they could negotiate a peace treaty that was satisfactory to both sides. He got up - the councilmen all leapt to their feet the instant he pushed his chair back from the table - and swept out of the council chamber. Recognizing that they were dismissed, the lords filed out as well.

Merlin spoke with some of them but declined all invitations to lunch, using his tutor as an excuse. As soon as the last one left, he turned to Will, who was leaning on the back of his chair, eyes glazed, mouth hanging slightly open, and poked him in the ribs. "You can wake up now, the meeting's over."

Will jerked back into full awareness and glanced around warily, as if afraid Merlin might be trying to trick him. "Already? I thought your father's stuffy old lords would go on at least until nightfall."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "No, we finished remarkably fast. We were only discussing ending our war with Camelot after all - nothing terribly important."

Completely missing his master's sarcasm, Will just shrugged. "I could've wrapped the matter up a lot quicker, without a single word from those old windbags. Uther Pendragon's an old goat of a tyrant, and I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him, much less try to negotiate a treaty with him."

Freya, who had sneaked into the chamber and washed windows as a cover so she could listen in on the meeting, exchanged an exasperated look with Merlin. "I don't think refusing to negotiate on the grounds that Uther Pendragon is an old goat is a very solid policy, Will. I'm afraid to even think what shape the kingdom would be in if you were in charge."

"Don't worry, I'd rather have thorns in my bed than have Merlin's job. It's all work, danger, and more work studying magic. That's why he has no life."

"Hey!" Merlin protested.

"It's true - you have more books in your bedchamber than girls."

"And you don't have either one."

Freya smiled as she listened to Merlin and Will trade verbal barbs, but for once she didn't join in. Watching Merlin, she had seen something disquieting in his eyes; he might have argued in favor of making the truce, but he had reservations. She wanted to know why, and resolved to get it out of him later, when Will was out of the way.

###

Her chance came late that night. Will had already gone to bed but Merlin was still awake, nose buried in one of his beloved books. Freya coughed to let him know she was there, and he promptly tossed his book down on the bed. "Freya, what is it?"

"Pardon the intrusion, sire, I merely wondered if you would tell me why you seemed less than completely happy with your father's decision today. If something's troubling you, talk to me. I'll help any way I can."

Merlin confided the details of Nimueh's visit, including what he had foreseen in the Crystal of Neahtid, to his friend. "Nimueh warned me that Uther can't be trusted, and that peace with him won't come without a price. She also said her vision concerned me intimately."

Freya gasped. "But that sounds like-"

"I know," Merlin said grimly. "It sounds like, whatever price Uther demands, I'll be the one to pay it."

###

Another month came and went, and Balinor's negotiations with Uther hit an impasse. Balinor had voiced the opinion that Uther ought to cease his efforts to purge magic from the face of the earth; otherwise it would only be a matter of time before the conflict between their kingdoms reignited. Uther could see that Balinor was right but was unwilling to give in on that particular point. The two kings' discussions became increasingly heated, and they probably would have gone home and assembled their armies to resume fighting had it not been for the timely arrival of Gaius.

His stated purpose for being there was to deliver more of the potion Uther took to relieve the pain of an old wound, but within hours of his arrival Gaius had hit upon a solution that seemed to solve everyone's problems. He proposed that Balinor could send someone more knowledgeable than Uther in matters of magic to Camelot to determine whether people caught using magic were actually dangerous, and that those who weren't simply be exiled. Uther would still get to execute those who were dangerous; either way, the undesirables would be removed from Camelot.

"Are you suggesting that I should simply let sorcerers go free?" Uther demanded, outraged. "What incentive could possibly persuade me to do that?"

Gaius closed his eyes and offered up a quick prayer to any gods that might be listening that he wasn't about to make a huge mistake. He then asked for a moment to speak privately with Uther. "What if, in return for . . . not allowing magic inside Camelot, but _softening_ your stance on it, you could gain a position of power in Dagon? One of your own on the throne, perhaps."

Uther seemed to like that idea. "Go on. How might I arrange that?"

"On Lady Morgana's last birthday, you mentioned that you would have to begin searching for a suitable husband for her. Balinor's son, Prince Merlin, is only a year or two her senior, and if he is still unattached . . ."

"Hmm, an interesting idea, Gaius. I assume that as the son of a dragonlord, the boy would possess some form of magic, would he not?" Uther asked almost sulkily.

"Undoubtedly. But Morgana is strong, sire - I have every confidence that she could take marrying a warlock in stride, and just think what she would gain by becoming queen of Dagon. It is after all one of the wealthiest lands in Albion, equaled only by Camelot."

Uther _hmm_ed again.

When Gaius' idea was presented to Balinor, he approved wholeheartedly. After all, sooner or later Merlin would have to marry _someone_, so it might as well be this Lady Morgana. Merlin certainly didn't have another girl he'd rather marry; left to his own devices, he would be perfectly content to spend all his time mastering new spells. Gaius, that brilliant man, had just saved Balinor the trouble of finding a bride for Merlin while also giving Uther what he wanted. "I will return home and inform my son immediately."

"Excellent; I shall do likewise. You must bring Merlin to Camelot, so that we can introduce him to Morgana. Will one month's time suffice for your travels?"

Balinor said that a month would be plenty of time, and the two kings sealed their agreement with a handshake, exactly as Merlin and Morgana had foreseen.

**For those who are wondering what the heck just happened, let me recap for you.**

**Uther: No way am I marrying my darling witch...uh, ward...to a sorcerer!**

**Gaius: But this is AU, so the sorcerer in question actually has money and power here. **

**Uther: Ooh, did someone say money? I like money! How fast can you arrange a wedding?**


	6. The Price of Peace

**This chapter is dedicated to anyone who wants to see more of Merlin and Balinor's relationship, or just to indulge in a little humor at Uther's expense, courtesy of Merlin's wacky friends. **

Thursday night found Merlin in the palace infirmary, assisting the court physician in mixing up various potions to replenish his medicinal stores. He had done this so many times that he was able to brew a draught to relieve pain or reduce fever from memory, and it could be a rather dull task once it became so familiar that it no longer required one's full attention, so he decided to pass the time by trying to get an answer to a question that had been weighing on his mind for some time. "Edwin, do you have a minute? There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

Edwin Muirden glanced up from the bottles he was in the process of filling, labeling, and lining up on his shelves. "As no one is injured or ill at the moment, sire, I have unlimited time. By all means, ask your question - that's what I'm here for." Besides serving as court physician, he also tutored Merlin in medicine and magic. "What is on your mind, my lord?"

"Our last battle with Camelot is on my mind. For as long as I can remember we've been enchanting our swords so that the blades never break or grow dull, so they can cut through almost anything and burn when they touch an enemy's skin, and I never saw a disadvantage to doing that until Arthur Pendragon got his hands on my sword. Once he took it, the magic worked for him as well as it had for me - there's no way he could have brought down a dragon without it. I need a way to keep that from happening in case any of our weapons ever fall into enemy hands again, but there hasn't been anything helpful in any of the books I've checked so far."

"It seems to me that an ideal solution would be to bind each sword to the knight who wields it; then its magic would work against any other who tried to take it for their own."

"Is that even possible? I've never heard of a sword that could only be used by one specific person."

"I assure you, sire- That cauldron is about to boil over!"

"What? Oh! _A__eris gelida_." Merlin's spell cooled the air under the cauldron; the liquid within stopped bubbling immediately.

"This is a very delicate mixture!" Edwin exclaimed, hurrying over to peer into the cauldron. "Too much heat might have ruined it. Perhaps we should save discussions of magical theory for tomorrow's lesson."

"No, I want to know what you were going to say. Tell me," Merlin insisted.

"Very well. It is possible for a sword to be made for a single hand, if the metal in its blade mingles with that person's essence at the time of its forging."

Merlin grimaced as if something bitter had touched his tongue. "You're talking about blood magic. That's almost dark, Edwin."

"That particular branch of magic lends itself well to certain dark purposes, yes; that does not mean the magic alone is evil."

"Still, it's frowned upon by a lot of people, including my father." Merlin's tone sharpened, making it clear that as far as he was concerned, Balinor's opinion was the first and last word on the matter.

Edwin almost argued that blood magic, while a social taboo, had never actually been outlawed, then changed his mind. Physician and prince went back to their work, a tense silence hanging in the air between them until it was broken by Will barging into the infirmary. "The king's just returned," he said to Merlin, "and he wants to see you right away, in his chambers." He turned to Edwin. "Sorry for stealing your student."

Edwin bowed. "Far be it from me to interfere with the king's orders."

###

Will followed Merlin as far as the ten-foot-high oak door leading to Balinor's private chambers; there he was stopped by Lancelot, who was taking his turn on the king's honor guard. "My lord wishes to speak with the prince alone. You'll have to wait outside."

Merlin and Will exchanged looks of confusion - Will had put in enough years as Merlin's personal servant that he was known to be trustworthy and loyal; there was almost nothing the royals would say in private that they wouldn't say in front of him. Knowing this, Lancelot gave him a small apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

Will shrugged it off although he was clearly burning with curiosity. "It's fine. I'll wait right here." He placed a slight emphasis on the words 'right here', which Merlin understood to mean, _I can't wait to hear what this is about. _

_That makes two of us,_ Merlin thought. Lancelot opened the door and stepped aside to admit him, and he entered to find the king pacing before his fireplace, brow furrowed in thought, or perhaps even worry. Merlin stopped a respectful distance away from the brooding monarch. "Father."

Balinor turned and put on a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Come here, son. There is much I must tell you."

"Did the negotiations with Camelot end badly?" It was the only explanation Merlin could think of for the anxiety he saw on his father's face.

"No, we signed a treaty that will end the war. King Uther has even agreed to some mitigation in his dealings with anyone caught using magic in Camelot, but in return he wants something . . . from you."

Merlin's stomach clenched as he recalled Nimueh's warning that Uther would give no ground without a price, and a part of his mind tried to guess what demand the king of Camelot could place on him. The worst possibility his vivid imagination could conjure up was losing his magic, or being forbidden to use it - to him that would be a fate worse than death. But he seriously doubted Uther would be able to take away his magic, and in any case Balinor would never agree to something like that. Therefore he had to ask, "What is it he wants?"

"It concerns his children." Balinor began pacing again.

"His children?" Merlin repeated, surprised. "I thought there was only Prince Arthur."

"Yes, him - you know he was badly wounded in the last battle. Their physician has done all he can for the prince, yet I hear his recovery isn't going well. Uther wishes for you to heal him completely."

"That'll be easy," Merlin said cheerfully, feeling that Uther didn't drive a very hard bargain.

"Good. Then there's the matter of Arthur's foster sister, a girl Uther took in when her father died."

"I never knew Uther had a ward. Does she need healing as well?"

"No, to the best of my knowledge the Lady Morgana is in perfect health. Uther doesn't want you to heal her, he wants you to marry her."

Merlin's mouth fell open. Either he had misheard, or Balinor was playing a joke on him. But the king's face showed no trace of humor, and he sounded perfectly serious when he asked, "What say you, son?"

With his father waiting for an answer, Merlin found his voice at last. "I think it's a terrible idea! I don't know Lady Morgana, she doesn't know me - what if we can't stand each other?"

Balinor frowned, disappointed by his son's reaction. "Why would you suppose that will be the case? As you just said, you know nothing about the young woman."

"I know she's Uther Pendragon's daughter-"

"Adopted daughter."

"Whatever, she's been _raised_ as his daughter hasn't she?"

"For the last eight years, since she was a girl of ten, Uther said."

"Wonderful. So he's been her guardian since she was a child, and I'm a warlock. I'm sure she'll take to me like flame to kindling," Merlin said sarcastically.

"Perhaps not, but I'm confident you'll win her over." Balinor paused; an old sadness showed in his eyes. "I had always thought your mother would be here to advise you on winning a girl's affections - she'd do a better job of it than I."

"Well, you got her to marry you," Merlin replied in a tone of forced levity. "You must be all right with girls. At least you were two decades ago, right?"

"I can still teach you a thing or two," Balinor growled.

###

"What happened to you?" Will asked ten minutes later, when Merlin emerged from the king's chambers with his clothes and hair significantly more rumpled than they had been when he entered.

"I got into sort of a wrestling match with my father. He won, of course."

"Ah. Do I even want to know what it was about?"

"Put it this way: you shouldn't question his skill with the ladies. _Ever_."

Will nodded as if he now understood everything. "So, he finally decided you need help learning what to do with girls. He tell you it's about time you find one?"

"No, actually, he said he's already found one for me."

Will's reaction was swift and predictable. "Is she pretty?"

"I don't know; I've never seen her. All I know is that her name is Lady Morgana and she's Uther Pendragon's ward." Will stopped dead; Merlin continued down the corridor until he realized his manservant was no longer right behind him. Turning around, he saw Will standing several paces further back, jaw dangling and eyes bulging. "What's the matter with you?" he asked, as if he himself hadn't momentarily worn the same expression after being told the news.

"Sorry, must need to clean my ears out. I thought you just said your father's arranged for you to marry Uther Pendragon's ward."

"That's what I said. Your ears are fine, Will," Merlin assured him.

"But-but-he-you-you can't do that!" Will spluttered.

"Father and King Uther seem to think I can, and Father knows there's no other girl I like better unless you count ones who are only friends, so I have to. I don't know why you're so shocked - kings have been arranging their heirs' marriages to secure treaties for centuries. I suppose I always knew my father would have to do the same for me one day."

"Not to the daughter of that old goat!"

"Adopted daughter. And when we leave for Camelot at the end of next week, you should probably put a lid on the 'old goat' comments. Or at least don't speak quite so loudly."

"We're going to Camelot? Why?"

"To join Uther's household in a festival celebrating our new alliance - officially. Really we're going so I can heal Prince Arthur; I heard he was wounded when the dragon Pyria fell on top of him-"

"Shouldn't have killed her then, should he," Will said unsympathetically.

"-And meet Lady Morgana. I'm hoping she hasn't picked up too much from her guardian over the years she's been with him."

"Oh well, I'm sure he can't have ruined her looks anyway."

Merlin's nose wrinkled. "What has that got to do with anything?"

Will carefully peered up and down the corridor, making sure that Freya, who had an inconvenient talent for catching him unawares, was nowhere within earshot. "Well, sire, so long as a girl's nice to look at, you can ignore everything else about her easily enough."

"So . . . you're saying I should just sit and stare at her all day?" That, Merlin thought, would probably get dull after an hour or so, no matter how beautiful the woman might be.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just saying that most of a woman's negative qualities can be overlooked so long as she isn't a complete troll."

Merlin pretended to take him literally. "Well, I'm sure the Lady Morgana isn't - someone who hates anything magical as much as Uther does would have to notice if one of the ladies of his court was actually a troll."

The idea of Uther having a troll in his court and not realizing it made Will laugh so hard that Merlin had to grab him to keep him from falling over. "Could you . . . imagine . . . if that . . . really happened?" he panted once he could speak again.

"That would be hilarious," Merlin agreed even though, having actually met a troll, he knew they weren't really a laughing matter. They were vicious creatures, and their odor alone was a powerful weapon. Upon entering his bedchamber, he did the one thing he knew was guaranteed to sober Will up: summoning one of his favorite spell books.

Sure enough, Will stopped laughing the second the book flew into Merlin's hand, his expression of amusement turning to incredulity. "You're going to do research at _this_ hour?"

"I'm going to look up transportation spells - it'll be a long ride to Camelot, and I want to see if I can't save us some time," Merlin explained. "You're free to leave for the night, unless of course you'd like to help me . . .?" He held out the thick, heavy book. Will fled. Merlin closed the door behind him, chuckling to himself. _Works every time. _

###

Will went out to the stables, where he found Gwaine bragging to Freya about how he had succeeded in breaking a particularly rambunctious colt to saddle. She was listening attentively but seemed far less impressed than Gwaine had expected. "There you are!"

Gwaine broke off mid-tale. "And where else would I be? I'm always here, and I'm just lucky enough that tonight the lovely Freya has decided to join me."

Will cut him off before he could begin enumerating Freya's many attractive qualities, hoping he hadn't already been to the tavern. Surely not - if he had, he probably wouldn't have come back. Anyway, Gwaine was such a flirt that he could wax poetic about a pretty girl with or without alcohol. "Yes, Freya's lovely - never mind that. You won't believe what I just heard." He then told them everything Merlin had told him.

When Will finished, Gwaine spat into a hay pile. "See, this is exactly why I never wanted to be part of the nobility - they're always doing stupid things like this. How's Merlin marrying a girl he's never even seen before supposed to strengthen an alliance when they might not get along at all?"

"I'm sure King Balinor wouldn't do this if he didn't think it's for the best," Freya said quietly.

"Well, _I_ think it's a fine joke on us," Will shot back. "Act like he wants to be friends now that his son needs magical healing and then slip his ward onto our throne where she can turn Dagon into another Camelot! Uther Pendragon isn't an old goat - he's a scheming, slimy _weasel_. We can't let this happen!"

"I don't see what we can do to stop it. If Merlin couldn't convince the king to change his mind, we won't be able to," Gwaine pointed out. Everyone was temporarily stunned by his being the voice of reason.

"What we need is someone to keep an eye on Uther's ward. Someone like . . . you."

"Me?" Freya squeaked.

"Yeah, you're one of the best on the castle staff, so when the lady arrives I'd wager a month's pay you'll be assigned to wait on her, and that she'll be the kind of noblewoman Gwaine hates, the kind that sees servants as part of the furniture. And people will say anything in front of a piece of furniture."

Freya rolled her eyes. "For goodness' sake, William, it sounds like you want me to be a spy!"

"Well, we need one. If Uther's daughter thinks she can take this place over, she'll have to go through us first."

"I'm sure the rest of the kingdom will sleep easier knowing that," Gwaine said solemnly.

**Hope you enjoyed that, because the next chapter will be Morgana-centric and not very funny at all. Also, I'm going to put up a poll just to get everyone's opinions on possible secondary pairings for this story, so please remember to stop by my profile page and vote!**


	7. The King and His Ward

**Look, a relatively quick update! Go me, go me! But yesterday was the first day of a new semester, and I can't afford to flunk algebra again, and I also want to work on my other ongoing stories, so this will be my last TSB update until Valentine's Day. Then I'll come back with a new chapter that will hopefully knock your socks off. **

**Other news: I'll be closing the poll this weekend and displaying the result, so if you haven't already voted make sure you do by Saturday. **

**Warning: Uther is kind of a manipulative jerk in this chapter, sorry Uther fans. If there ****are**** any Uther fans...hello, anybody out there?**

Convalescence did not suit Arthur. Gwen hardly had time to set out Morgana's breakfast before another maid burst in, looking both distraught and apologetic as her eyes sought the lady's. Morgana was on her feet in a flash. "What's Arthur doing this time?"

"He won't stop fussing with his bandages, my lady - says they're either too tight or too loose or that they're causing his arm to cramp. No one can do a thing with him," the maid admitted, eyes fixed on the floor in embarrassment.

"Leave him to me." Morgana swept out of her chamber, ignoring Gwen's protests that she needed to eat her breakfast, and made her way to Arthur's rooms. She had been spending a lot of time in them since his return from the battlefield, because she was the only one who could handle him when his injuries put him in a really foul temper.

Sure enough, she found him harassing the servant who was trying to retie the sling holding his arm. "Not so tight, idiot!" he bellowed. "You're cutting off my circulation!"

"Yes, it's obvious that too little blood has been reaching your brain lately," Morgana agreed, then added as an afterthought, "although I think you may have had that problem all your life. Here, let me do that." She took the long cloth strip away from the servant, who thanked her and ran before she could change her mind.

Arthur leaned back on his pillows and stretched his good arm. "Thank the gods you came to save me from that incompetent moron! Have you noticed how the servants can't do anything right anymore?"

"I haven't. I've noticed only that you've become impossible to please of late." Morgana stopped herself before she said something that would start them fighting. _It isn't his fault, it isn't his fault . . . _ She lowered her voice and attempted to sound more compassionate. "I understand it must be hard for you, to have to limit your activities until your shoulder heals-"

"If it _is_ healing," Arthur interrupted. "I've tried to do as Gaius says and be patient - for weeks now - and it never feels like it's getting any better." His voice dropped to a low murmur on the last words, and a sort of hurt entered his tone.

Morgana winced in sympathy. "Are you in pain?"

"No, Gaius' medicines are good for easing the pain. I just worry . . . What if I'm never as strong as I used to be? I still can't move my right arm, Morgana; I can barely even feel it! It's like a dead weight."

Right then Morgana felt that she would have given anything to be able to honestly tell him that he would recover fully, that she knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt - but she couldn't. She was no physician; there was nothing in her power to do for him, save one small, relatively useless gesture. She slid closer and very carefully wrapped her arms around her brother.

Arthur gave her a one-armed squeeze in return, then sighed and said, "I wish I had never seen that damn dragon."

Morgana pulled away, not liking the bitterness in Arthur's voice. She'd heard far too much of that in the last few days. It was time to prod him out of his gloomy mood. "Well," she began in a carefully calculated tone that was equal parts humor and derision, "just be grateful the dragon didn't actually pull your arm off. Then you would look even more ridiculous than you usually do."

It worked; Arthur's head snapped up, and Morgana recognized his expression from when they were children and she used to taunt him mercilessly. He would endure her for a while, but sooner or later he would always get her back. "I'll show you who's ridiculous!" Reaching behind himself, he grabbed one of the pillows that had been strategically stacked up to support his bad arm and lobbed it at her. When Morgana danced nimbly out of its path, he proceeded to throw the rest of his pillows until he ran out. She then picked one up off the floor and moved to hit him in the face with it, but the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat stopped her.

She and Arthur froze, then slowly turned toward the open door. Uther stood in the doorway, clearly torn between amusement and disapproval, with Gaius behind him. "What is going on here?"

"Nothing, Father. Morgana was just trying to cheer me up, that's all." Arthur made an effort to sit up straighter, flinching as his shoulder was jarred due to the lack of support.

Gaius pushed past Uther to examine his patient. "Why aren't you wearing your sling?" he demanded. Snatching the long piece of cotton cloth off the floor where Morgana had dropped it, he looped it around Arthur's torso, muttering that the prince would be the death of him.

"Come, Morgana, let us leave Gaius to his work," Uther suggested.

She followed him out and expected that they would go their separate ways, but Uther caught her arm and steered her along with him. They turned right at the end of the corridor, went down a short flight of steps, made another right turn, and stopped in front of a door which Uther opened. Morgana went in ahead of him and looked around. This was one of the castle's many guest chambers, all of which were currently unoccupied. Uther must have brought her here for complete privacy, yet strangely he seemed in no hurry to say anything.

Morgana's mind raced as she tried to figure out what important news he might have for her ears only. The worst possible scenario she could think of was that Uther had been unable to negotiate a truce with Balinor and the kingdom was shortly to be plunged back into war, but then why was Uther eyeing her so speculatively? Surely he wasn't going to send _her_ into battle in Arthur's place?

It came as a total shock when he said, "Morgana . . . you grow lovelier every time I see you."

She smiled; even though she was used to men complimenting her on her beauty, she was still susceptible to flattery, and praise from her demanding guardian was not given lightly. Now if only she could find a man whose appreciation of her went deeper than the purely physical level, she would be absolutely, perfectly happy . . .

Uther was still talking; she made herself listen to him. "It feels as if it were only yesterday that I brought you here, when you were so young - and now, to see the woman you've become . . ."

"Yes," Morgana said uncomfortably, "I remember. It was a long time before I really understood why I would never see my father again, and when I did I was so angry . . . at the world for allowing bad things to happen to such a good man . . . at you for sending him into battle." She paused to fight back the memories. It hurt to think of those long-ago days when she'd been so bitterly unhappy that she had lashed out at anyone who came near her, wanting them to feel just a small part of her rage and misery. Why was Uther bringing it up? "I like to think I've come a long way since then."

"Indeed you have, and although I loathe the thought of being parted from you, it is time for you to take on the responsibilities of a grown woman. Don't look so shocked; I believe I have mentioned this before, during your eighteenth birthday celebration."

Not trusting herself to speak, Morgana only nodded. Overhearing Uther's comment that he needed to start trying in earnest to arrange a good match for her had effectively ruined her enjoyment of the feasting, dancing, and gifts. "I can assure you I've had my eyes open, but I fear none of the men in Camelot are quite to my liking," she said lightly, trying to ignore the churning in her empty stomach.

"That's just as well. As a member of my household, it is your duty to make a politically advantageous match - to strengthen our ties with other kingdoms, or to make an ally of an old enemy, such as King Balinor."

Blood pounded in Morgana's ears, nearly drowning out Uther's voice. She struggled to think over the roar of her own racing heartbeat, to grasp what he was saying. Something about King Balinor of Dagon . . . "Balinor," she repeated aloud. "What about him?"

"In the course of our peace talks, we agreed that you and Balinor's son, Prince Merlin, are to marry."

Morgana's stomach stopped churning. In fact, it seemed to disappear entirely. _Thank goodness I didn't have a chance to eat anything. If I had, I believe I might be sick. _Instead she shouted, "No! I won't!"

"Morgana!" Uther sighed. "I had hoped you would take this better, but I can't say I'm surprised; you were always so strong-willed. Though I did not think you would behave so childishly."

His air of calm disapproval infuriated her, as did the realization that he had expected her to get angry; why else would he have chosen to deliver the news in a deserted wing of the castle? "Childish? First you say I'm a grown woman, now you're saying I'm a child! So I am whatever suits your purposes, is that it?" Morgana's voice rose, eliciting another sigh from her guardian.

"No, you are not a child - not even when you insist on behaving like one."

"Fine! Fine." Morgana calmed herself; when she spoke again, there was only the slightest tremor of anger in her voice. "Then I will tell you, as one _adult_ to another, that I do not wish to marry a man I don't even know, much less love. I will not." She fixed him with a piercing, defiant glare.

Uther's hands almost shook as he fought an urge to strike her. "How dare you? Insolent girl! After everything I have done for you, this is how you think to repay me? Where do you suppose you would be if I had not taken you in after Gorlois' death?"

"I-" Morgana faltered. Once her father was dead, there had been countless greedy men who would have plundered his lands if Uther had not stepped in to stop them, to save everything Gorlois had owned for her. Who would have protected her inheritance - protected _her_ - if not Uther? "I suppose that without you I would be penniless," she replied as evenly as she could. "Or that someone who wanted to gain my father's title could have forced me into marriage when I was much younger."

Uther appeared satisfied even though she hadn't thanked him for sparing her from such a fate or apologized for her outburst. "Morgana," he said much more gently, "I am not acting out of any desire to make you unhappy; you must believe that I have only your best interests at heart. You stand to gain much by marrying the crown prince of a land so wealthy as Dagon."

"Is that all you think I care for? Riches and power?"

"Those are the things you were born for. Gorlois often said he had always believed you would make a fine queen one day."

Morgana froze, all her rage and frustration quelled by the mention of Gorlois' name. "Are you-?" She choked up, paused, swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, and tried again. Her voice still refused to rise above a whisper, but at least she managed to speak. "Are you saying my father would have wanted this?"

Uther gave a slow nod. "Yes, I believe so. It was once the fondest hope of both Gorlois and myself that you would reign here in Camelot, at Arthur's side, but I have realized that is not to be. You and Arthur are brother and sister to one another, nothing more. I see that now, and so I have had to make other arrangements for your future."

She wanted desperately to protest, to say she would rather marry Arthur than some stranger - yet her tongue wouldn't form the words. It was true that she viewed Arthur as her brother; she could live happily with him if a platonic relationship, a marriage in name only, were an option, but the idea of being intimate with him repulsed her. She would have to marry someone else, then - she did _not_ want to become an old maid and spend the rest of her years living off the Pendragons' generosity. Becoming a queen sounded far more appealing. "All right," she whispered.

Uther paused mid-ramble. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said all right!" she repeated, louder this time. "I'll do it."

"Excellent! You're making the right decision, Morgana - for yourself and for the kingdom."

"Indeed." She forced a smile and politely asked, "May I go now? I haven't eaten a thing all day . . ."

"Yes, yes, by all means go; we can't have you wasting away. Oh, and Morgana?"

She paused and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Yes, my lord?"

"I would appreciate it if you would not trouble Arthur with this news just yet. We wouldn't want to impede his recovery, would we?"

"Of course not. May I speak of it with someone else? I cannot keep this to myself."

"I suppose you may, just make certain it's someone you can trust."

###

Gwen took the news of Morgana's impending marriage much better than Morgana herself had - but then, she was not the one who was being traded away like a prize mare. "I wish I could be as calmly accepting of my fate as you are, Gwen. But when I think of leaving the place that has been my home since I was a little girl and traveling to a strange land where I'll know no one to marry a sorcerer, all I can feel is fear and sadness. I'll be all alone."

"You won't be alone. I'm going with you, of course."

Morgana put down the bread she had been shredding into bite-sized pieces (but not eating). "Oh, Gwen . . . It means so much to me that you would offer, but I cannot ask that of you."

"You don't have to ask. Unless you do not want me with you, I'm going," Gwen said resolutely. "This is my chance to repay you for the kindness you showed me when my father died - don't you remember that?"

Morgana did; no one who had been in Camelot at the time was likely to forget the circumstances of Tom's death. Two years ago, a plague had swept through the kingdom. Gaius had eventually discovered that the source was an afanc living in the main reservoir under the castle, poisoning the water, and Arthur had slain the monster by setting it afire with his torch, but it was too late - Gwen's father, along with several others, had already succumbed to the disease. After Tom died, Morgana had mounted a search for Gwen's last remaining family member, her brother Elyan. She'd offered a substantial reward for any news of his whereabouts, using money out of her inheritance from Gorlois to do so, and Gwen had always been grateful even though the search met with no success.

"You helped me during the worst time of my life, Morgana."

"I didn't-"

"I know you weren't able to find my brother, but you tried. That's more than any other mistress would have done. Now it's my turn to help you."

"Then I will be glad to have you accompany me. Thank you, Gwen." Morgana mustered a shaky smile for her friend, but it slid off her face like water the instant Gwen turned her back. Gwen said she wanted to help, but if Prince Merlin turned out to be coldhearted, controlling, or cruel - and everything Morgana had ever been taught about magic and those who practiced it suggested that he would be all of those things and worse - there wasn't a lot Gwen would be able to do about it. Burying her face in her hands, she began to cry quietly.

**And now, for your daily workout: put both hands in the air if you think Uther played Morgana like a piano and is indeed a weasel, and get up and dance if you're excited for Merlin and Morgana to meet in the next chapter. **


	8. What Is and What Is Meant to Be

**Here it is, two days early in celebration of me passing my first algebra exam: Merlin and Morgana's first meeting, aka the One You've Been Waiting For. So now I'll shut up and let you read it. **

Merlin hurried silently across the courtyard to the royal stables, his black clothing blending so well with the night shadows that no one noticed him. A few of the knights' horses turned from their hay to watch him as he passed, having detected a sense of urgency in his quickened gait. He brushed their minds with his magic, reassuring them that all was well, and continued on to the stable block where his own horses were kept.

Gwaine was still there, whistling as he pitched hay into the stable. Merlin stopped short, but Gwaine must have already heard him; he straightened up and turned around, pitchfork held out threateningly. "Who's there?"

Merlin came forward, where Gwaine could see him. "Relax, Gwaine, it's only me."

Gwaine immediately put down the pitchfork. "Merlin! Forgive me, sire, but you scared two years off my life!"

"Let me make it up to you." Merlin tossed him a gold coin. "Here, buy yourself a drink on me."

Gwaine began calculating how many tankards of ale he could buy now that he had just made the equivalent to three weeks' pay in one night, only to have all thoughts of ale chased out of his brain when Merlin dismissed him for the night, saying he could put out the rest of the hay himself. It wasn't that Merlin never took care of his own horses, but he usually only groomed and fed them after he'd exercised them. Come to think of it, there was something distinctly odd about him being out here at all at this hour. "Merlin, I know it's not my business, but I have to ask - why are you here?"

"It's a nice night for a ride," Merlin said carelessly, but Gwaine wasn't fooled.

"A nice night for a ride. And I suppose the fact that you're due to leave for Camelot tomorrow is pure coincidence? Look, sire, I know you're not pleased about going and I don't blame you - I wouldn't want to be a guest in Uther's castle either - but still, it's not worth running away from everything just to get away from him."

"What? You think I want to run away? No, Gwaine, I wouldn't do that. I really just want to go for a ride. _Really_."

"Sure you wouldn't rather come to the tavern with me?"

"I'm positive."

"All right, sire. Shall I saddle a horse for you?" Gwaine offered, hoping for a negative answer. After a hard day's work, he was ready to get out of the stables.

"No thank you, I can manage."

They went their separate ways, Gwaine to the tavern and Merlin out of the city. His bay mare, Star - named for the white marking on her forehead - galloped joyfully under the half-full moon until they came within a mile of their destination: a mountain chain aptly named the Dragon Mountains because their lofty peaks were popular among the kingdom's dragon population as a nesting place. Like most animals, Star hated to go near dragons, and she shied violently upon catching their scent.

_Easy, girl, _Merlin soothed her. _The dragons won't hurt you. Go on. _The mare moved on willingly but nervously flicked her ears back and forth every five seconds. Merlin dismounted at the mountain's base, knowing the horse wouldn't go any further, and continued on foot. The first sign that he had indeed found one of the dragons' dwelling places came in the form of an ambush carried out by a playful group of hatchlings who fanned out their bony wings and blew puffs of smoke at him in an attempt to seem fearsome - until three adults arrived to chase them back up the mountain. Then they ran, squeaking and tumbling over one another in their haste to return to their nests.

"Hatchlings," Kilgharrah grumbled. He rustled his wings in irritation, then fixed his sharp golden eyes on Merlin. "Well, young warlock, what brings you here?"

"I need your advice."

"That much is obvious - otherwise, there would be very little reason for you to be here. Now, are you going to tell me what is troubling you, or would you like me to guess? I must warn you, I have little patience for guessing games."

Merlin seated himself on a large rock close to Kilgharrah's taloned feet and finally voiced the concerns that had been churning inside his mind for days. "It's this treaty with Camelot. Father said you advised him in favor of it-"

"We did."

"-But I'm not convinced it's a good idea."

Cryllth, a green-scaled male who was a few centuries younger and more hot-tempered than Kilgharrah, hissed softly, blowing steam out of his nostrils. "Are you questioning our judgment, Emrys?"

Kilgharrah cuffed the younger dragon with his wing. "Quiet, young one! You forget that humans are not like us - very rarely are they gifted with knowledge of what is to come. They see only what is laid before their eyes at a single moment in time."

Merlin stood up (a useless gesture since he still appeared tiny to the dragons) and shouted to get their attention. "Excuse me! I need to know - are you saying that aligning ourselves with Camelot may seem risky now, but that it'll pay off later?"

The three dragons eyed him speculatively, as though deliberating on whether to reveal certain information. At last Flayme, the red female, nodded her head decisively. "Tell him, Kilgharrah. We cannot compromise the future by leaving Emrys ignorant of his destiny."

"_What destiny_?"

A shiver of pleasure rippled Kilgharrah's sinuous muscles, signaling that he was about to make a cryptic speech - he really enjoyed those. "You are right to beware of Uther Pendragon, young warlock - his heart is cold as stone, and his hatred of magical creatures such as ourselves runs deep. His son's heart, however, is not yet so hardened."

"Great. Why is that important, exactly?"

"Arthur Pendragon is destined to be your greatest ally, as you will be his. Together you will unite all the lands of Albion, and bring about harmony between all magical and non-magical races."

"Oh, is that all? It's good to know your expectations aren't too high!" None of the dragons dignified his sarcastic remark with a reply; evidently they failed to understand how it felt to have the weight of destiny dropped like a stone on one's head. Merlin took a long moment to collect himself, then asked his next question. "So I must do everything in my power to ensure that the treaty succeeds?" _Up to and including marrying Uther's ward?_ He guarded that thought carefully, having no desire to discuss marriage with a trio of millennia-old flying lizards - that topic was uncomfortable enough in conversation with his own father.

Flayme answered affirmatively. "Yes, young warlock. Dagon and Camelot must become allies, no matter what you must do to make this come to pass."

###

"Your outlook seems much improved this morning, sire," Lancelot remarked as he and Merlin put on their riding gloves and traveling cloaks. "Just yesterday I could have sworn you didn't want to visit Camelot."

"I can't say the prospect of spending a week as Uther Pendragon's guest is any more inviting than it was yesterday, but I've come to the conclusion that it's the right thing to do."

"Good for you."

They went outside into the courtyard, which was a hotbed of controlled chaos. The knights who were to accompany Merlin and Balinor to Camelot were mounting up and trying to steer their excited horses into formation without trampling the servants who wove between them to reach the luggage carts so they could toss in items their masters had forgotten, or remove things that had been deemed unnecessary at the last minute.

"Ah, there you are!" Gwaine came over, leading Merlin's and Lancelot's horses, and held the bridles while prince and knight mounted. "Have a safe trip."

"And you don't get into too much trouble while we're gone," said a voice from behind; Merlin and Lancelot turned in their saddles and saw Will and Freya approaching, Will on horseback, Freya on foot.

"Don't worry, William, I'll keep an eye on Gwaine," she promised.

Gwaine groaned, knowing that when Freya said she would keep him out of trouble, she meant it.

Merlin grinned at her. "Thanks, Freya."

"So, Merlin" - this from Lancelot - "Will tells me you know a spell that can transport us to Camelot in less than a minute."

"Yeah, it'll be easier than spending days on horseback - so long as I can make it work on a group this large."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"The book was a bit vague on that point, but I think we'll all cease to exist," Merlin said cheerfully.

Lancelot opened his mouth, possibly to say that he had just decided to sit this trip out after all, but it was too late; Merlin had already begun the spell. Lancelot gripped the pommel of his saddle tightly and prayed it wouldn't be the last thing he would ever touch.

Everyone within range of Merlin's spell experienced a moment of disorientation, as if they had momentarily passed out of the world; when it passed, they were on a hill overlooking miles of farmland - and, far in the distance, a castle displaying the red and gold flag of the Pendragons.

"The royal palace of Camelot," Balinor announced. "Well done, my son!"

"Couldn't you have taken us all the way to the castle, sire?" one of the knights asked.

"It's probably for the best that he didn't," Lancelot answered before Merlin could speak. "Could you imagine old Uther's face if we appeared out of thin air in his courtyard?"

###

When they rode into the heart of Camelot, Uther himself and at least half of his court turned out to greet them. It was the first time Merlin had ever seen Uther Pendragon in person, and he was mildly amazed to find that the man responsible for causing his kind so much suffering and loss was only an ordinary man after all. To all outward appearances, he didn't seem one bit like a madman or a ruthless tyrant. He didn't even look like a goat or a weasel, regardless of what Will said.

Merlin's observation of King Uther took only a short moment, and then his gaze passed on from the king to the woman - no, the _girl_; she couldn't be older than eighteen, if that - standing at his right hand. She was the most beautiful girl Merlin had ever seen, but her rigid posture and haughty sneer gave her a strong aura of unpleasantness. _I'll just avoid her while I'm here, _he decided.

Balinor and Uther greeted one another with the utmost cordiality, as if they hadn't been mortal enemies just a short time ago. Then Balinor introduced Merlin, who bowed slightly in an uncharacteristic effort to appear respectful - it would hardly do to offend Uther at their first meeting. "Greetings, sire. It's an honor to be invited here."

Uther nodded approvingly. "Welcome to Camelot, Prince Merlin." He reached behind himself, grasped the arm of the unfriendly-looking girl, and pulled her forward. "May I present my ward, the Lady Morgana." He then gave her a slight push in Merlin's direction.

Dismay hit Merlin with the force of a tidal wave. _That sneering sourpuss is the Lady Morgana?_ What followed next in his thoughts was a series of swearwords not fit to repeat. He needed her in order to establish new, non-antagonistic relations between their two kingdoms, but she clearly wasn't going to make it easy for him.

Lady Morgana's jade-green eyes swept over him, stopping on his face. Her sneer drooped, then vanished completely, her pale brow furrowed in consternation, and her ruby-red lips parted; clearly he wasn't what she had expected. Merlin used her moment of confusion to take control of the situation. He stepped forward, almost but not quite intruding on her personal space, and offered his hand. "My lady?"

She flushed and extended her own hand, which Merlin kissed as briefly as courtesy would allow. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady."

"The pleasure is mine, my lord." Her voice held an almost quizzical note, as if she were trying to determine the truth of her words even as she spoke them.

Several feet farther back, Uther and Balinor both breathed quiet sighs of relief - Morgana hadn't whipped out her favorite jeweled dagger and stabbed Merlin (Uther had given her maid specific instructions that she was not to be allowed to carry it today, but she might have smuggled it out of her chambers by hiding it under her sash), and Merlin hadn't transformed Morgana into a frog. All in all, their first encounter had gone smoothly.

"They don't look too friendly, do they?" Lancelot noted in an undertone. Balinor glared at him. The knight hastily backtracked. "Well, obviously it could be worse."

"Yeah, at least the Lady Morgana definitely isn't a troll," Will said. This earned him raised eyebrows from both Balinor and Lancelot. Will decided it might be in his best interests to shut up.

###

The party from Dagon were escorted to their guest chambers by Prince Arthur's manservant, a shaggy-haired fellow named Cedric who wore an earring in one ear and was promptly labeled a bootlicker by Will. "And the Lady Morgana," he ranted on, "looks as if her face got stuck just as she bit into a lemon. I hate her already. You can't really want a queen whose face looks like that, can you?"

Merlin laughed. "Will, I don't think her expressions are permanent. Look at it from her viewpoint - she's going to have to leave her home and live in a kingdom that'll probably seem very strange to her. Really, it's no wonder she wasn't pleased to see us."

"Oh gods, you _like_ her, don't you?" Will accused him.

"I don't see why I shouldn't at least try to," Merlin replied, keeping his tone blandly noncommittal.

Will threw up his hands in disgust, unpacked the formal clothes Merlin was supposed to wear to that evening's welcoming feast, and commenced to give them a rather brutal brushing-down. So engrossed was he in beating away imaginary lint that he failed to notice a knock on the door, leaving Merlin to answer it.

Cedric showed his surprise at Merlin opening the door himself instead of sending Will to do it for only a second, then began 'humbly apologizing for the intrusion' and so forth, until Merlin cut him off.

"What is it you want?"

Cedric gulped, wondering if he was about to be cursed. "Forgive me, my lord, I know you've had a long journey . . ." He trailed off as Merlin and Will snickered, as if at some private joke. Cedric couldn't recall saying anything funny, but who knew what passed for funny with this pair? Strange people, these foreign sorcerers.

"Well, go on," Will prodded. "Whatever you were sent to tell us, spit it out."

"Oh yes. Well, you see . . ." Cedric shuffled awkwardly as he addressed Merlin. "King Uther requests a private audience with you. Immediately."

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though it ended up very different from what I had originally envisioned; I was going to write both Merlin's and Morgana's perspectives on meeting each other for the first time, and instead I ended up with the part where the dragons explained Merlin and Arthur's destiny, because it seemed like a good place for that part. So now I'll be doing Morgana's POV on Merlin in the next chapter, if that's cool with everybody?**


	9. First Sight

**So, lately I feel like this story has kind of come off the rails - it's become less Morgana-centric and more ensemble than I'd intended, and it seems to have taken on a life of its own, and now I feel like the boneheaded mad scientist who creates a monster only to be eaten by it in the end. It's aliiiiiiiive! Sorry, I just had to say that. **

**Anyway, back to my point: I want to know how you, the readers, feel about the way this story is progressing, and also to ask how you'd like to see it go. The main issue I'm wrestling with is, now that I've outlined Merlin and Arthur's destiny in the previous chapter, would you like to see me write about them fulfilling it or just leave it as something that happens far in the future?**

**And finally, a fun little challenge for you: see if you can spot the lines taken from episode 1x01, The Dragon's Call, and get a free preview of chapter 10. **

Gwen entered Morgana's chambers early, intuition having warned her that preparing her mistress for today was going to require extra time, and found the lady lying on her back with her eyes wide open, glaring up at the canopy over her bed. Gwen let out a soft sigh - yes, today was definitely going to be difficult - and moved to the bedside. Standing over Morgana, she saw that the skin under her eyes bore dark purple bruises. "Morgana, did you not sleep at all last night?" she cried in dismay.

"No, sadly I found myself unable to sleep a wink. I feel perfectly awful, Gwen - I think I had better stay in bed all day." Morgana rolled over, turning her back to Gwen, and buried her face in a pillow.

Gwen sighed again, regretfully. "My lady, you know you can't do that. The party from Dagon is to arrive by noon, and the king especially wants you at his side when he greets them." Morgana's only response was to moan and burrow deeper into her pillows. Gwen tried another tack. "The king says he will have my job if I don't get you dressed and into the courtyard by the time they arrive."

In the interest of keeping her best friend employed, Morgana dragged herself out of bed and sat still while Gwen brushed the tangles out of her hair; although she was in no mood to look pretty today, she knew it would be unfair of her to give her maid a hard time. It wasn't _Gwen's_ fault that her life as she knew it would end today.

Her resolution not to cause trouble for Gwen lasted until Gwen put down the hairbrush and brought out three of her favorite dresses for her to choose from; then her contrary nature reasserted itself. Morgana pictured herself in each of the elegant garments and decided that none matched the image she wanted to project to their honored guests. "No, I do not wish to wear any of those," she announced at length.

Gwen put them away and took out three different dresses. "How about these, my lady?"

Morgana spent another ten minutes deliberating, then: "I'm afraid none of these will do either."

"You're never this hard to please; I'm beginning to suspect that your dresses are not the problem. Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"

"It's just that all my clothes are so...so... They're not what I want right now."

"And what would you like to wear instead? Your armor?"

Morgana nodded enthusiastically, a hint of a grin playing around the corners of her mouth. "Or a burlap sack over my head, perhaps."

Gwen gave her an understanding but sad smile. "You know, this engagement was arranged for political reasons - it won't make any difference if the prince finds you unattractive."

"A girl can dream, can't she?"

"I think you're taking entirely the wrong attitude toward this. What makes you so certain that Prince Merlin will make you miserable?"

"You even have to ask?" Morgana laughed bitterly. "I am sure he will be just like all the noblemen who have tried to impress me ever since I grew old enough to be courted: an arrogant, supercilious braggart who struts around the castle like a peacock and sees me only as a prize to be won, not a person. _And_ he's a sorcerer-" She broke off as a slight shudder passed through her.

She had felt an occasional pang of sympathy for the warlocks and witches Uther had had executed as they were led to the headsman's block or the hangman's noose, or tied to the stake - how could she not? It was easy to pity them from a safe distance as they were about to be killed, easy to forget that the dark arts they practiced violated every law of the natural world...until Uther reminded her. Now he was handing her over to one of _them_, and her usual fearlessness had deserted her. Of course she wasn't really frightened (she had assured herself several times that that was not the case), just apprehensive.

For just a second the same apprehension showed on Gwen's face before she shoved it down and forced a smile; right now she had to be strong for Morgana - and get her ready to greet her guests, or she would find herself unemployed. "Why don't you wear the dark green one - it really brings out your eyes."

Morgana smiled slightly. "Excellent choice, Gwen. Now, what shall I do with all this?" she asked, running her hands through her hair. She experimentally piled it atop her head, then let it fall loose down her back. "Up or down?"

"Down, I think, but let's pull it back from your face a bit."

Morgana sat down at her dressing-table and let Gwen do her work. Having her hair styled and choosing her jewelry for the day was such a comfortingly ordinary part of her routine that she almost forgot what was to follow - until Uther disrupted the routine by coming to fetch her in person.

"Ah, you're dressed. Good. Come along, Morgana, we cannot keep our guests waiting."

She dropped the grape she had been about to pop into her mouth back into its bowl - her stomach seemed to have plummeted through the floor - and murmured, "Indeed not, my lord."

Gwen followed them, staying as close to Morgana as possible, but once they joined the courtiers assembled in the courtyard she had to stand back with the other servants, while Morgana took her place at Uther's right hand. Arthur would normally stand there, Gwen noted; it felt so strange to see Morgana there instead, her silence and stillness so different from the loudmouthed, obnoxious prince's demeanor. How odd that Gwen didn't even like Prince Arthur, yet for just a short moment she missed seeing him in his customary place beside the king.

Morgana also wished Arthur were there, but then the people that the royal court of Camelot had gathered to meet entered the castle grounds and immediately occupied her full attention. Her first thought on the company from Dagon was that they were a dark-looking bunch - the surcoats worn over their chain mail were black, bearing the kingdom's emblem: silver flames, against which the silhouette of a black phoenix stood out sharply - and their cloaks were black as well. Even the majority of their _horses_ were black, though she spotted three bays, a pair of chestnuts, and a dappled gray as well. _If they wanted to look forbidding, they've certainly accomplished that. _

"Uther-" King Balinor's voice was a deep, almost gruff rumble "-so good to see you again."

"Likewise," Uther replied as he and Balinor shook hands. "It brings me great joy to welcome you to Camelot so that we may usher in a new era of peace together."

_Ha! _Morgana scoffed inwardly. _Mere weeks ago you would have rejoiced at his death. These courtly niceties are so full of hypocrisy. _ She had already arranged her face into her best disdainful sneer for Prince Merlin's benefit, to let him know exactly how she felt about being forced into this engagement; now her lip curled just a little more.

A young man dismounted, handed his horse's reins to his servant, and joined Balinor, who introduced him as "My son, Merlin." Morgana's interest was caught the instant the name reached her ears - so this was him. She watched him through narrowed eyes, scrutinizing his every move as he greeted Uther, and detected a note of irony buried under his politeness when he declared himself honored to be invited into Camelot. _He still remembers Uther as an enemy - as the one who has hunted his kind like animals, _she realized. _Our countries may be at peace now, officially, but I do not believe he trusts Uther. Or perhaps he's simply not much given to showing proper respect. _

She had no time to ponder his mannerisms further, because in the next moment Uther was drawing her forward, presenting her, discreetly pushing her ahead of himself so that for the first time no one stood between her and Merlin, and she finally got a close look at her future husband. She immediately tried to compare him to Arthur - although she would rather be tortured than admit to feeling any admiration for her foster brother, he was the standard against which she measured other men - only to find such a comparison impossible with this particular man.

Merlin was as different from Arthur as night from day - he was slightly taller than Arthur but far less muscular; in fact he was so thin as to appear almost unhealthy, his cheekbones so sharp that Morgana half-expected them to pierce through his skin at any moment - and their dissimilarities didn't end there. Merlin's skin was pale where Arthur's was tanned, and his soot-black hair fell untidily over his forehead as if he'd never cared to get a proper haircut; Arthur was always perfectly groomed, more because Uther expected him to look like a 'proper' royal than because he worried excessively about his own appearance.

It was Merlin's eyes, though, that captivated her more than anything else. Blue as cobalt, deep as the sea Morgana had never seen except in imaginings inspired by the stories her father used to tell her, those eyes seemed to her as if they held a world of arcane knowledge, a vast alien power (_Magic, _her mind whispered). She could almost believe he was using magic on her right now, except that somehow she knew he wasn't. All that was happening was that she, for the first time in her life, was strongly attracted to another person.

Morgana hated it. She wasn't supposed to feel this, not for _him_ - in fact she had fully intended to hate him, right up to the moment when she looked into his eyes and saw...whatever it was inside him that drew her. Now all she could do was stare at him - just as members of the opposite sex often stared at her, ironically enough; perhaps this was punishment for the few times she'd flirted with men who held no true interest for her? - dragging the moment out until he realized it was up to him to complete the ritual of proper greetings.

"My lady?" he prompted, moving closer.

Morgana felt her face grow hot - he obviously thought her a dimwit - and stuck her hand out for him to kiss. This was always her least favorite part of meeting noblemen, because so many of them liked to prolong the contact longer than she wanted. Some of them even slobbered on the back of her hand while kissing it, and she dreaded being subjected to that disgusting behavior again. Once again, though, Merlin proved himself different. He took her hand lightly, touching her only with his fingertips - which she didn't even count as a touch, since he still wore his riding gloves - and brought it to his lips for just the merest instant.

Still, that brief second of contact sent warmth rushing through Morgana's veins. _Oh gods, _she thought, _what is happening to me?_

###

Merlin dropped Morgana's hand the instant he could do so without being rude, they expressed their pleasure at meeting one another - falsely, Morgana thought; she was actually quite _dis_pleased with the feelings he inspired in her, while he seemed ambivalent - and then they stood there, neither one knowing what to do next.

At this point Morgana was expected to fill the silence with airy banter about the goings-on at court or the weather but found herself unable to speak so frivolously to Merlin; anyway, she knew instinctively that he didn't want her to banter at him. _So what _does_ he want? _she wondered. She was beginning to feel awkward and frustrated when, mercifully, Uther came to her rescue.

"Well," he said to Merlin and Balinor, "I daresay you'd like some time to yourselves after your journey. Cedric! Show our guests to their quarters."

Morgana drew back, her sneer reappearing - she disliked Cedric. His obsequiousness had annoyed her from the moment she first laid eyes on him, and Gwen had reported that he was unfriendly to the other servants behind the royals' backs. If not for the fact that she did not have much contact with Arthur's manservant as a matter of course, she would have taken measures to get him fired a long time ago.

A flurry of activity ensued as Balinor's men - all two dozen of them - dismounted, stable-hands came to take their horses, and the courtiers of Camelot dispersed. In the hubbub, Morgana managed to slip away unnoticed and headed for her chambers, desperate for some time alone with her thoughts.

Unfortunately Gwen saw her leaving and followed her back to her private sanctum, where she immediately began chattering. "So, what did you think of Prince Merlin? He's not like any of the men in Camelot, is he? Of course I wasn't close enough to get a really good look, but he seemed attractive enough, in a pale sort of way. He needs to get out into the sun more, don't you think? I mean-"

"No!" Morgana snapped. Gwen, unused to her mistress speaking so harshly to her, shut her mouth and blinked in surprise. Morgana flushed. "I only meant," she said hastily, stumbling over her words, "that I liked him well enough as he is. I wouldn't wish for him to look more like my _dear_ brother."

Gwen looked horrified. "Oh, no! I didn't mean _that_! Who'd want to marry Arthur?"

"Not I - I wouldn't touch him with a lance-pole." The girls shared a laugh, then Morgana walked briskly to her wardrobe and opened it. "Come here, Gwen, and help me choose a dress for tonight's feast."

###

While Morgana and Gwen pored over the lady's very finest attire, Merlin followed Cedric through the corridors of Uther's palace and mused on what the king of Camelot might want with him, or more specifically what he might want that required them to meet in private. Given that he was a warlock and Uther's hatred of his kind was infamous, he halfway expected to be threatened or treated to a rant about how unnatural his powers were. Oddly, though, the prospect didn't bother him - after all, he'd been alone with Nimueh several times. Compared to her, Uther was less frightening than a shadow on the wall.

Cedric led him to a massive pair of double doors. "Here we are, my lord - the king's council chamber."

"Good. You may return to your duties now; I can find my own way back to the guest wing."

"Thank you, my lord." Cedric gave an unnecessarily deep bow before opening the door for him.

Merlin entered, the door scraping shut ominously behind him, and there stood Uther at the opposite end of the room, the long table that seated his council stretching between them. Its chairs were empty but a dozen guards lined the walls, six on each side of the room. Merlin's hand automatically twitched toward the dragon's-claw dagger at his belt before he checked himself - there was no need to draw his weapon unless they attacked him, and right now they were merely standing there, motionless as statues. Their purpose was only to intimidate.

_Uther doesn't trust me, _Merlin noted. _Why else would he make me come alone and then bring so many guards? Yet he's willing to have me marry his ward. Either he thinks I wouldn't dare harm her, or his heart is even colder than Kilgharrah said. _ Aloud he only said, "You wished to see me, sire?"

Uther gave a brisk nod. "Your father apprised you of the terms of our treaty, I'm sure. I was told that it is within your power to restore my son to full strength. Is it?"

"I can do everything except bring the dead back to life."

"Then your task will be easy, since Arthur is still alive. I wish you to heal him immediately - we're all most anxious to observe your healing powers, which I hear are quite remarkable."

"Well," Merlin prevaricated, "it's not like I can just wave my hand over him and make his wounds disappear; first I need to know exactly what injuries I'm dealing with. Perhaps I could consult with your physician?"

Uther frowned - he hadn't realized magical healing was so similar to conventional medicine. Then again, he didn't really know very much about the subject. If Merlin said he needed a consultation with the physician who had treated Arthur, who was Uther to say different? "Very well. Sir Garet, send someone to fetch Gaius."

Merlin smiled inwardly; for years he had wanted to meet Gaius, and Uther had just handed him the opportunity. _This should be interesting. _

**So now you know what Morgana thinks of Merlin. Was her attraction to him based solely on him being new and different, or does magic have something to do with it? And why is he interested in meeting Gaius? **


	10. Blood Ties and Loyalty

**Congratulations to the wonderfully observant happieface03, Nyah86, wongirl, merlincrazy, Elin Marc, Gray Shoed Wonder, and Narutoske for correctly answering my challenge! Thanks for playing, guys. **

Ten minutes later the council chamber door opened again to admit Gaius - an old man with a drab brown robe, white hair, and one permanently raised eyebrow. _Exactly as Mother always described him, _Merlin thought, though in fact Gaius had aged considerably since the last time Hunith had seen him. The eyebrow, however, had remained the same.

Gaius bowed to Uther. "How may I be of service, sire?"

"Ah, Gaius. This is Prince Merlin of Dagon; he wishes to consult with you before fulfilling the agreement I made with his father."

"Very well." Gaius turned to Merlin, bowed again. "I fear my healing skills are not equal to yours, my lord, but I will assist you in any way I can."

_Is that all he has to say to me? Well, I suppose Uther wouldn't take it too well if he found out about Gaius' connection to my mother. He must have kept it a secret all these years. Very well . . . _ "I need you to detail Prince Arthur's injuries for me."

"Of course. Perhaps we may proceed to the patient's chambers? I have taken the liberty of sedating him, in case . . ." Gaius allowed his words to trail off, looking uncomfortable.

Merlin smiled tightly. "It's all right, I understand why he might be reluctant to accept magical healing, especially from me."

A couple of the knights reacted to this, shifting uneasily and muttering to themselves; they rarely heard magic discussed so openly. Merlin felt a certain satisfaction at having shocked them.

"If you will follow me, my lord." Gaius led Merlin to Arthur's chambers, and Uther and his guards accompanied them.

Merlin didn't object, but it struck him as ridiculous; if he wanted to hurt someone it would be Uther, not his son. He forced the thought out of his head - it probably wouldn't reassure Uther in the slightest - and refocused his attention on Arthur Pendragon. _My greatest ally? I wouldn't have guessed it from all the times we've tried to kill each other, but maybe I'll believe it if he doesn't try again the instant he wakes up. I just hope those dragons know what they're talking about! _

"As you can see, the damage is all on the right side, but it is quite extensive. These ribs were broken-" Gaius pointed out the affected ribs "-but they've shown a little improvement. The main problem is his clavicle - it was completely crushed, and while new bone might eventually form, given enough time, I can't be sure it would reform correctly."

"Right. I can take care of that." Merlin placed his hand flat on Arthur's shoulder and sent his magic out through his fingertips, directing it to the damaged areas. _"O__s emendare__ - c__urarentur__!" _The spell snapped Arthur's fractured ribs back together with a loud popping, cracking noise, and created new bone matter in his crushed shoulder. Then his arm wrenched into its socket. Merlin winced. "Good thing he's sedated - healing bones with magic can be a bit unpleasant."

Uther took an anxious step forward. "Did it work? Is he healed?"

Merlin stepped back from Arthur's bedside, giving the king space so he could see for himself. "It's done. Have Gaius examine him if you like."

At Uther's nod, Gaius removed the prince's sling and gently prodded his shoulder, feeling for breaks or weaknesses. "His bones are mended, sire," he announced. "He should be good as new."

"That is wonderful news." Uther turned to Merlin. "I won't forget this. You have my gratitude."

Merlin acknowledged Uther's thanks with a small smile, then excused himself. Uther sent everyone else out as well, saying he wanted to be alone with his son when he woke.

The guards returned to their posts, and Gaius headed back toward his infirmary, only to be stopped by someone calling his name. He turned around and saw Merlin standing where he was positive no one had been a second ago. "My lord? Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yes, there is." Merlin's smile vanished as he swiftly closed the distance between them. "You can explain to me why my mother became a priestess of the Old Religion, while her brother entered the service of a king who vowed to exterminate her kind. How could you betray your sister that way?"

Gaius closed his eyes as if in pain, then reopened them and faced the prince. "So you know of my relation to Hunith."

"Of course I know - why do you think I had you summoned? I could have cured the prince without your help, but I wanted to meet you . . . Uncle." He used the title sardonically.

Gaius sighed; he seldom regretted his actions - after all, he had had his reasons. Whether they were reasons his nephew would understand remained to be seen. "If you are as well informed as you seem, then surely you must know that Uther did not issue his edict against the practice of sorcery until after my appointment as court physician."

"But you stayed after he banned magic - after the great purge began, still you served him!"

"You were not in Camelot twenty years ago; you don't understand what it was like then. Sorcery was rampant, uncontrolled, and it had thrown the kingdom into chaos!"

Merlin scoffed. "My father allows magic, and our kingdom is hardly on the brink of chaos. Even if magic was causing problems for Camelot, Uther's solution was wrong-"

He abruptly fell silent at the sound of approaching footsteps. A servant ambled into the corridor, carrying a washrag and bucket, and stopped short when he saw Merlin. "S-sorry, my lord. I'll clean these floors later."

"Thank you. I'll be out of your way in a moment."

The man bowed and hurried away.

Gaius waited until the servant was out of earshot, then resumed his argument. "Balinor is able to control the magic in his kingdom because he is more knowledgeable about it than Uther, seeing as he is himself a creature of magic, as are you. Uther, I'm afraid, lacks your father's temperance, which is why I have stayed in Camelot to act as his advisor."

"And is it worth it? Does he listen to you?" Merlin was skeptical.

"Enough to make staying in Camelot worthwhile, yes. He negotiated the peace treaty with your father on my advice."

"Then it would seem your loyalty to him hasn't been in vain." Suddenly a new thought struck Merlin and he moved closer to the old physician, his voice taking on a new, darker tone as he asked, "Your advice wouldn't have anything to do with this unwanted engagement I'm stuck in, would it?"

Gaius hesitated, debating with himself how best to answer. He wanted to be completely open, to admit that for years he had known Morgana had the Sight, and that he feared what Uther would do to her if he ever discovered her gift. This had given him a secret motive for suggesting the arrangement of her marriage to Merlin: namely that the match would remove her from Uther's grasp and take her to a kingdom where her prophetic abilities wouldn't get her killed. Alas, Morgana's gift was not his secret to tell. All he could say was, "I did what was necessary, my lord."

Merlin's eyes narrowed; he sensed there was something the old man wasn't telling him, but before he could press Gaius further, Will burst into the corridor.

"There you are! Look, d'you intend to dress for this bloody feast or not?"

"Of course."

"Good, because I've already pressed the wrinkles out of your clothes and drawn your bath - you'd better hurry up before it gets cold."

"Well, I can always reheat it if that happens. What's your hurry? I thought the feast didn't start until sunset."

"It doesn't, but everyone starts gathering in the entrance hall about an hour beforehand, and your father just told me he doesn't want you dragging in at the last minute again . . ."

Merlin's and Will's voices faded as they walked away, and Gaius breathed a sigh of relief. That manservant may have been a bit abrupt, but his timing was impeccable.

###

Upon waking from his drug-induced sleep, the first thing Arthur noticed was that his right side was no longer one massive dull ache. The second thing he noticed was his father leaning over him.

"Arthur? How are you feeling?"

"I feel . . . fine. Great, actually. Better than I've felt since that battle with the dragon."

"Wonderful."

Uther moved back to give Arthur room to sit up; as he did, he wondered at the absence of the hated sling from his arm. If Gaius wasn't making him wear it anymore, if he no longer needed its support . . . Tentatively, he tried curling his fingers, then lifting his arm. To his amazement (and pleasure) everything worked perfectly - not as if he had recovered, but as if he had never been hurt at all. "How is this possible?" He looked up and saw Uther watching him intently. "Father?"

"You know, I'm sure, that I have made peace with Balinor of Dagon while you have been out of commission?"

Arthur was flummoxed. "Morgana's kept me informed of all the current news, yes. What has that got to do with anything?"

"One of my stipulations was that his son would heal you."

"Merlin? But he's-" Arthur's mouth fell open as the full implications of what he'd been about to say hit him. "Oh gods - it was magic, wasn't it? He used _magic_ on me!"

"He did," Uther admitted, "at my request."

"But . . . but you never condone the use of magic . . . under any circumstances."

"That is true; however, for your sake, I found it within myself to make an exception. _You_ are the most important thing to me, Arthur, and I could not bear to see you suffer."

"Er, thank you, Father." Arthur rarely saw such displays of naked emotion from his father, which he was now glad of - he had never before realized how very embarrassing emotional displays could be. _Perhaps this is just a bizarre dream I'm having. Any moment now I'll wake up, and my father will be his normal self again._ Then it occurred to him that, as long as he was dreaming that his broken bones had been repaired, he may as well enjoy it. "I - I should get up and dress now, don't you think? I'm heartily sick of lying in this bed, to be honest."

Uther allowed himself to show a hint of the sympathy he usually kept hidden, lest it be mistaken for weakness. "Yes, I imagine you would be. And you are quite right, you do need to dress - tonight commences a week-long festival in celebration of the ending of our war with Dagon, and it would hardly do for the crown prince to miss the feast. Your manservant will be in shortly to prepare you." With that, the king rose and made to exit the bedchamber; at the door he paused just long enough to say, "By the way, I know that you have expressed a . . . singular animosity toward Prince Merlin in the past, but I expect you to put that behind you. Tonight is about establishing friendlier relations with our old enemies, and I will be most displeased if you do anything to undermine that. Understood?" He swept out without waiting for an answer, assuming that he would be obeyed, as always.

Arthur watched him go, feeling more confused than ever. Stern orders and businesslike briskness were much more in keeping with the Uther he knew, but if Uther was once more acting like himself . . . then that meant Arthur wasn't dreaming after all. He really had been restored to full health - and in a few short hours he would have to make friends with his nemesis. With a groan, he flopped back onto his bed. _Why can't _that_ part be a dream? _

###

That evening, as the sun sank toward the western horizon and twilight darkened the sky, Arthur made his way into the large room adjacent to the dining hall, where most of the court gathered prior to the feast in order to mingle freely before taking their seats at Uther's table, which were designated according to each guest's social ranking and favor with the king. Arthur scanned the crowd, and his eyes landed on Morgana's maid, who was currently serving drinks. If she was working here, then that meant Morgana must already be dressed, yet the lady was nowhere in sight.

_No doubt she's waiting for the hall to fill up so there'll be more people to watch her make her entrance, _Arthur thought. Then: _Is that a new dress Guinevere's wearing? She looks rather pretty tonight._ His gaze followed the serving girl as she wove through the gathering of nobles and knights . . .

. . . And paused when she reached Merlin and Lancelot. "Wine, my lords?" she asked, curtseying.

"All right." Merlin accepted a goblet from her, and Lancelot followed suit. "Thank you, Miss . . .?"

"I'm Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen; I'm the Lady Morgana's maid."

Merlin froze, taken aback by the mention of her connection to his future bride, but Lancelot suffered no such reaction and simply introduced himself. "I'm Lancelot, and this is Prince Merlin of Dagon."

"Oh, I already know . . . I mean, everyone knows who _you_ are. We're all so pleased to have you here - peacefully, I mean. Oh dear, I probably wasn't supposed to mention the war, because it's over now, of course . . ." Gwen trailed off, and Lancelot took it on himself to save her from her mortification.

"It's quite all right; we're pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Guinevere. Aren't we, Merlin?"

"What? Oh . . . yes, of course we are." For a short moment he teetered on the point of asking the girl about the whereabouts of her mistress, but before he could make up his mind Prince Arthur came up behind Gwen and cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence.

Gwen squeaked and turned around so quickly she almost dropped her serving tray; Arthur steadied it before anything spilled, then covered the action by pretending he had merely been reaching for a goblet of wine. "Thank you, Guinevere."

"S-sire." She curtseyed and hurried away, not wanting to get caught between Arthur and Merlin.

There was a brief silence as the two former archenemies faced each other, during which Lancelot drew back slightly while still staying close enough to listen in, then Arthur took a gulp of wine to steel his nerves and said, "So, I'm doing much better now, and I understand I have you to thank for that." He forced the words out so rapidly that Merlin had trouble comprehending what was being said, then stood there grimacing as though it had hurt his teeth to say them.

After decoding Arthur's nearly unintelligible speech Merlin asked, "So are you going to thank me, or are you just going to acknowledge that you should without actually doing it?"

Camelot's prince blinked, opened his mouth, then closed it again, having found himself momentarily speechless. Finally, after a couple more attempts, he managed to say, "Well, I've never exactly been skilled at . . . at thanking people-"

"Maybe it's time you learned, then."

"Look, can't we just pretend that I did without actually going through all that? This is awkward enough as it is."

"I have to agree with you there." A slight grin tugged the corners of the warlock's mouth upward. "Just don't knock me in the head again and we'll call it even."

To his astonishment, Arthur found himself fighting back laughter; in all their previous meetings on the battlefield, he and Merlin had never really spoken to each other beyond exchanging taunts and threats. He hadn't known until now that his former enemy could be witty, and he had certainly not imagined that it would be so easy to reply in kind. "I take it you won't be joining me on the training field, then."

"Are you implying that if I did I wouldn't be able to stop you knocking me in the head?" Merlin retorted.

At that moment a collective gasp of admiration went up from those nearest the doors. Merlin and Lancelot looked around for the source of the disturbance, but Arthur, having heard many such admiring sounds at previous feasts, already knew the cause. The Lady Morgana had arrived.

**So now we've learned more about Gaius' background and what motivates him, and we also got to see a caring moment between Arthur and Uther (I couldn't write him as a complete tool ****all**** the time), and the first semi-friendly interaction between Arthur and Merlin, although both still have their guard up around each other. Next chapter will be mainly Morgana's perspective, and will include more inspiration from The Dragon's Call. **

**On a sadder note, my spring break is now over, so please review; it will help cheer me up. **


	11. A Memorable Feast

**OK readers, here's a chapter with more M/M interaction! Ended up being a mix of Merlin-POV and Morgana-POV instead of all Morgana, and a scene I'd intended to put in here got pushed to the next chapter because this was getting too long, but I think it works. **

**Oh, and for disclaimer purposes, I have to admit to borrowing the spell **_**"Finite incantatem" **_**from the Harry Potter 'verse. The other spells in this story were made up by me with the help of Google Translate. **

Morgana entered the hall at a slow, stately walk, giving everyone ample time to admire her new gown. Made of extremely fine burgundy silk gauze woven with tiny sparkling gems, it clung to every line of her body and showed off her best assets to remarkable effect. Of course she'd had to wear an outer layer of deep midnight-blue velvet over the gauze to save it from true indecency, but like most of her over-gowns it was open to her waist, where it was cinched with a golden belt worked into the shape of an intricate leafed vine; it did little to interfere with the display of her cleavage. A gold circlet, necklace, and earrings all set with matching sapphires and rubies completed her accessories. She looked stunning and she knew it - and so did everyone else.

They all gazed at her with expressions ranging between open-mouthed longing and undisguised lust (from the men) and admiration undercut with ugly, spiteful envy (from the women, some of whom merely looked furious at the stares their husbands were giving her) - but there was only one person whose reaction held any importance for Morgana. Her eyes sought out Merlin, and she saw that _his_ eyes had gone quite a bit wider than they normally were, his mouth hung slightly open, and his wine goblet was frozen in midair, as if he had been in the process of lifting it to drink from it and had suddenly forgotten how to move his hand. Gratified by his response, she allowed herself a small satisfied smirk.

Sidestepping a group of eager young knights who flocked toward her like chickens to their feed, she beckoned to her maid, who she had spotted near Merlin. To her relief, Gwen saw her subtle gesture; she really didn't want to have to go and fetch her, since Merlin affected her so peculiarly when they were in close proximity.

Gwen reached Morgana just as she stopped at a solid stone stretch of wall between tall, peaked windows; she always preferred to have a wall at her back when discussing private matters so that no one could sneak up behind her and eavesdrop. Pulling the serving girl close, she murmured, "Have you made Prince Merlin's acquaintance?" Gwen nodded. "Well? What do you think of my fiancé?"

"He's polite - uncommonly polite, for a prince . . . and you were right, he really isn't in need of more sun exposure. I can see why you're so attracted to him."

"_What_? I beg your pardon?" Morgana sputtered. "I never said I was attracted to him!"

"You needn't say it out loud," Gwen said knowingly.

"Are my feelings really so clear? How embarrassing!"

"Don't worry, my lady - it's only clear to me because I've known you so well for so long. I'm sure _he_ hasn't got a clue."

"Oh, well, that is a relief." Morgana composed herself, reverting to her usual easy manner with Gwen. "Now that I'm to have Merlin, we must find a man for you." Gwen scoffed and rolled her eyes, but failed to deter Morgana. "Look, I've spied a pair of worthy-looking candidates already." She glanced pointedly at Merlin's companions, Arthur and Lancelot.

"Seriously? A little realism, please, Morgana!"

"Yes, you're right - they should be so lucky as to earn your affections. But just for the sake of argument, if you had to choose between them, who would you pick?"

"But I don't have to, and I never will," Gwen rebutted in a singsong voice.

Morgana's lower lip poked out. "Gwen, you are _spoiling my fun_. It's most unkind of you. Choose!"

"Very well . . . I suppose I'd take Sir Lancelot, seeing as I know what an arrogant bully Arthur can be. But then, I don't really know Sir Lancelot - he could be even worse!"

"Do you really think that's possible?"

"Or he may simply not be my type at all."

Morgana laughed. "Gwen, sometimes I wonder whether you wouldn't know your type if he was standing right next to you."

"I'm sure I would if he were standing right next to me," Gwen protested. "Except in this instance he clearly isn't."

"I should hope not!"

Trumpets sounded, signaling that the feast was about to begin; everyone moved aside to clear the way for Uther and his guest of honor, Balinor, then followed them into the cavernous dining hall. To Morgana's delight, Merlin and his father joined her, Uther, and Arthur at the royal family's high table, situated on a dais above the rest of the hall - but then Merlin elected to sit beside his father instead of Morgana, which put him too far away to take advantage of the view afforded by her low-cut bodice.

Even worse, Cedric was perfectly positioned to do so; Morgana was disgusted to notice him leering at her as he served Uther. _The pig!_ she thought, outraged. _I'll put him in his place. _ She summoned him and then, as he bent over her to refill her goblet, she seized a handful of his scraggly hair, yanked his head down onto a level with hers, and hissed in his ear, "Keep your eyes where they belong, swine, or I shall have you flogged." Then she released him, confident that he wouldn't bother her again.

"Did you say something about swine, Morgana?" Uther asked.

She turned in her chair to face her guardian, her gracious, charming smile slipping back into place. "I said '_wine_', my lord - I was asking for more wine."

"We do have exceptionally fine wine tonight," Arthur agreed. "And I heard we're to have fine entertainment as well. Any idea what it'll be, Morgana?"

"I believe Lady Helen of Mora will perform for us after dinner," Morgana said thoughtfully. Lady Helen was the most famous singer in all of Camelot; Uther was obviously going to great lengths to make this festival a memorable one. Morgana leaned forward so as to catch Merlin's eye across the table. "Do you enjoy music, my lord?"

"Certainly."

"You're in for a real treat, then - Lady Helen is wonderful."

"I'm sure."

"You aren't very talkative, are you?" Morgana huffed.

Instead of replying, Merlin merely glanced down at his plate and smiled to himself.

Balinor nudged him sharply. "Merlin! Answer the lady!"

Merlin obeyed immediately. "My apologies, Lady Morgana - I was debating whether to vex you further by simply saying 'no'." He spoke very seriously, but his eyes were sparkling with mischief.

Morgana leaned back in her chair, satisfied now that she had finally wrung more than five syllables out of him.

"My son has always had a rather odd sense of humor," Balinor said; then, pointedly, to Merlin: "Though why you would wish to vex such a charming young lady is beyond me."

"I wouldn't make a habit of it if I were you," Arthur advised, punctuating the warning by brandishing his fork at Merlin. "Vexing Morgana can be dangerous."

"Is that so?" Merlin spoke lightly but not dismissively; in fact he was now looking at Morgana appraisingly, as if trying to determine her dangerousness - yet he didn't seem threatened by her. On the contrary, Morgana got an impression that being dangerous might actually raise his regard for her.

"I do have a dagger that Arthur gifted me with on my last birthday," she told him, "which I'm fairly skilled in the use of. Perhaps I'll give you a demonstration sometime."

Beside her, Uther grimaced as if he had bitten into a sour grape. "Morgana, if Prince Merlin wishes to see a display of skill with a blade, I'm sure one of the knights will oblige him. Showing off with a dagger is not proper now that you are of age."

Merlin had been cutting up his meat; now he laid down his knife and fork and addressed Uther - Morgana decided his thinness wasn't such a marvel after all, since he evidently couldn't stop talking long enough to eat much. "I have to disagree with you, my lord - my mother taught me that self-defense is a valuable skill for anyone, even proper ladies."

Uther frowned. "For one so young, you are very free with your opinions. Is he always like this?" he asked Balinor.

"Ever since he learned to talk," Balinor replied with a shrug. "I don't discourage him from expressing himself because his opinions are generally worth listening to."

Merlin lowered his gaze to his food, looking sheepish but pleased - apparently compliments shut him up more effectively than criticisms.

###

The rest of the meal - two more courses, including a huge roasted boar - passed without further outspokenness from Merlin. Finally, when the last of the plates and serving platters had been cleared away, Uther stood up to make a short speech. "It brings me great pleasure to be here with you all tonight, and to welcome our western neighbors to Camelot as friends after three long years of strife and bloodshed." He paused so everyone could cheer and applaud as he raised his goblet to Balinor and Merlin, who in turn saluted him with theirs, then continued speaking when the accolades died down. "And now, I also have the pleasure of introducing the famed singer, Lady Helen of Mora!"

Lady Helen entered the dining hall amid more applause and made her way to a small stage that had been erected for her. She took a deep breath and, as an expectant hush fell over the crowd, opened her mouth and began to sing. In the silence her voice floated pervasively through the hall, touching everyone and everything, seeming almost to wrap around them like some invisible sentient mist. The torches and candles went out as she sang, plunging the room into darkness, but her audience didn't notice. They had all fallen asleep - all except Merlin.

In the moment before he would have passed out he had recognized the foreign words of Lady Helen's song as a sleeping spell, and his magic had pushed back, throwing off the enchantment instantly. Wide awake now, he still sat slumped in his chair, keeping his eyes mostly closed while peering through his lashes, and tried to figure out the witch's purpose. Was this meant to be a prank? But nobody would be embarrassed about falling asleep during Lady Helen's performance if they didn't remember doing it, and she had included a line in the incantation to make everyone forget the second she stopped singing. There wasn't even any food on the table for people to fall into. _This is either the worst joke ever . . . or something more sinister is going on here. _

Now the witch had left her platform and was slowly pacing up the aisle between the long tables, her song - and consequently, her spell - intensifying with each step she took. Merlin's own magic still protected him; it wasn't even costing him any effort to resist her, but the feeling of unease in his gut deepened as she approached. She came close enough for him to make out the expression on her face, and that made up Merlin's mind; he didn't know exactly what she planned to do or what her motivations might be, but he knew ill intent when he saw it.

Two things happened simultaneously: Lady Helen halted within a yard of the royal table and pulled out a knife that she had concealed in the folds of her gown, and Merlin whispered, _"Finite incantatem," _silencing her spell-song. There was a general rustle of movement as the people who had been inside the spell's range regained consciousness; at the high table, Arthur straightened up where he had slipped sideways in his seat - just in time to see a knife flying toward him!

Morgana's heart thundered as if trying to burst out of her chest even though she was clearly in no danger - the blade's trajectory would carry it to Arthur, not to her - and she was powerless to stop it. He would be dead before she even had time to comprehend that she was about to see her foster brother murdered right before her eyes . . .

. . . But the knife never reached its target. Amazingly, _impossibly_, it screeched to a halt in midair, hung there for an instant, then dropped onto the table in front of its intended victim with an anticlimactic _thunk_. Morgana glanced up - and her wide, disbelieving eyes met Merlin's, which glowed with an unearthly golden light. Their gazes locked for a second that seemed to stretch out interminably, during which Merlin's eyes returned to their normal blue, and then the instincts that had been conditioned into Morgana over a lifetime of being taught to fear magic took over. She screamed.

Morgana's shrieks brought guards running from outside the hall, their loud voices joining the guests' murmurs of confusion and fear. "What happened to the torches?" the one in the lead asked, and, "It's too bloody dark in here! I can't see a thing!" complained another as he tripped over his own feet.

Merlin rolled his eyes, cast "_Voco ignis__!_" and the extinguished torches in their wall-brackets and candles in the huge iron chandelier roared back to life, causing the assembly to duck, cry out, or even faint as the flames flared up before settling back to their usual controlled burn. Even Uther looked unnerved by Merlin's blatant display of magic, but he quickly recovered himself and bellowed, "Guards! Seize her!"

_Her?_ Morgana wondered. Her gaze followed the line from Uther's fingertip to the person he was pointing at, and she gasped her astonishment. 'Lady Helen' was gone; in her place stood a withered, grizzle-haired old crone, the singer's best dress hanging loosely off her bony form. Morgana knew her to be Mary Collins, whose son had been executed for practicing magic, who had vowed to take vengeance on Uther for her son's death. Morgana had felt sympathy for her at the time, but not anymore - not after she had just tried to kill Arthur. Uther obviously recognized her too; he shouted again for the guards to remove her.

"You would protect the son of that monster?" Mary Collins demanded of Merlin. "You would side with him over your own kind? Traitor!"

"No, that would be you," Merlin retorted coldly. "It's people like you that give magic a bad name and turn those without it against us."

Mary Collins laughed insanely at him. "My son never harmed a soul, but _he_-" she pointed a shaking finger at Uther "-murdered him just the same. He will turn on you too - you think not? You must be a madman or an idiot!"

Balinor made to leave the dais, intent on personally making the witch regret insulting his son, but Uther's guards reached her first. "That's enough, you!" one of them growled, while the other pinioned her arms behind her back. Together they dragged her out of the hall.

Once she was gone, everyone's attention shifted to the other person they had seen using magic: Merlin. Some of Camelot's knights were reaching for swords that weren't there, their training demanding that they seize him as well even though they hadn't been ordered to do so, while Balinor's men eyed them warily, ready to spring into action if any of them made a move against Merlin. The noncombatant noblemen and -women simply looked terrified of him.

Merlin couldn't believe it. He hadn't shown even a fraction of his true power tonight - he had saved their prince's life! - yet they all looked at him as if he were some sort of monster. Nobody had ever been afraid of him before - intimidated by his position as crown prince of one of the most powerful kingdoms in Albion, perhaps, but never truly frightened, and not by _him_, Merlin himself. He didn't like the feeling their fear gave him at all.

Then the whispers started, and Merlin decided he could do without hearing what they said about him. He turned and bowed stiffly to Uther. "Excuse me, my lord." Then he departed the hall as fast as was possible without actually running, not waiting for Uther to excuse him, leaving behind a thoroughly shocked court of Camelot.

**Next chapter we'll see Morgana sneaking out of her room at night (and the useless guards failing to catch her, natch) and more M/M! **


	12. Sleepless In Camelot

**You wanted it, you got it - here's a chapter devoted almost exclusively to developing the M/M relationship, with just a smidge of Gwen added. Enjoy! **

"He's really something, isn't he?"

When Morgana failed to answer, Gwen paused in brushing the lady's hair, circled around the low-backed chair where she sat at her dressing table, and gave her shoulder a gentle shake. "Morgana?"

Finally registering that Gwen was speaking to her, Morgana shook off her reverie and gave the maid an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry; I must have been a thousand miles away. What were you saying?"

Gwen sighed. "We were talking about Prince Merlin, don't you remember? I'd wager you were just thinking of him too."

"Naturally - after tonight he's probably all anyone is thinking of."

"I know! He must be very powerful to have stayed awake after that witch put everybody else to sleep, and ended her spell - not that I would have expected anything less, him being a prince and all . . . Still, he must have an awful lot of magic, don't you think?"

"I really haven't sufficient knowledge of magic to say," Morgana demurred. "But yes, he did seem quite powerful to me."

Some of Gwen's natural enthusiasm drained away; her voice was more subdued when she said, "Yes . . . and the way he made every torch and candle in the hall flare up - it was all a bit . . . well . . . scary. I don't envy you, Morgana."

###

That night Morgana's sleep was disturbed by images of roaring fire searing through her dreams, blazing hotter and brighter as it surrounded her and lightened from orange to an unnatural gold - the same gold as Merlin's eyes, which were locked with hers, transfixing her, burning into her mind even as the flames burned her flesh . . .

She jerked awake, nearly throwing herself out of bed in an effort to escape the fire before her brain reoriented itself and she realized it wasn't real. Then she sat with her back pressed to her headboard, trying to slow her breathing and shake off the residual feelings of panic from her nightmare. It wasn't easy; visions of all-consuming flames used to plague her nearly every night when she was younger, and now it seemed they were back - now, when she'd thought she was free of them at last. Seeing Merlin light the torches earlier tonight must have evoked the old images in her mind. _Damn Merlin. _

Being angry with Merlin pleased Morgana - it was so much simpler than feeling _other_ things for him. She slid back down into her bed, fluffed her pillows, and lay down on her side, smiling as she closed her eyes - and the blaze expanded behind her closed lids once more! Blazing fire, blazing eyes . . . blazing _magic_. Morgana bolted upright with a small cry, staring all about her with eyes opened to their widest; she was afraid to close them again.

What was more, she felt uncomfortably hot. Sweat soaked her body and her sheets, twisted by her tossing and turning, formed a stifling cocoon around her legs. In the aftermath of her nightmare, the heat was particularly unwelcome. Morgana extricated herself from her bedclothes and stood up; the cool stone floor under her bare feet was soothing, but it wasn't enough - not with the heat from the fireplace pervading the room's atmosphere.

She tried opening the window and poking her head out, but while this cooled her face it did little for the rest of her. Fresh rivulets of sweat streamed down her back, and she decided that she needed to get out of her stuffy chambers. There was a small balcony nearby - a perfect place to get some fresh air. She padded silently down the darkened corridors, pausing only once to duck into an alcove when a group of guards passed on their nightly patrol, rushed right to the balcony's edge and leaned over the stone railing.

The city of Camelot spread out below her; Morgana remembered the first time she had seen it, when she hadn't wanted to be here at all. Ironically, now she didn't want to leave. Replacing her father's castle at Cornwall with Camelot as 'home' in her mind had been hard enough; she didn't know if she could make that kind of adjustment again. What if she never felt like she belonged in Dagon . . .?

"Quite a view, isn't it?"

Morgana gasped and whirled around, momentarily confused because there seemed to be nobody there, as if the voice had issued from thin air. Then Merlin stepped out of the shadows, where he had been perfectly camouflaged thanks to his dark clothing. He'd replaced his cape with a jacket made of strange material unlike anything Morgana had ever seen and tied some sort of scarf around his neck - apart from that his attire was unchanged from what he'd worn to the feast hours ago - and his pale skin almost seemed to glow in the moonlight. Morgana subconsciously cataloged these tiny details of his appearance and knew she should be pleased to see him, if only because it confirmed that she wasn't hearing things, but somehow the sight of him only increased her agitation. Her heart hammered so hard and fast it was almost painful, and she was certain Merlin could hear it.

Aware of the effect he was having on her, he approached slowly, cautiously, making sure to stop with several feet still between them. "Don't be frightened, Lady Morgana. I won't hurt you."

Morgana's features slipped into the well-rehearsed sneer that she wore like armor in emotionally difficult situations. "Frightened? Of _you_? Don't flatter yourself."

"You're _not_ afraid of me? I thought you were . . . earlier. You screamed," he reminded her awkwardly, almost accusingly.

"I - that - that wasn't - you can hardly blame me!" she sputtered indignantly. "What did you expect, after making such a spectacle of yourself?"

"I saved your brother's life," he hissed.

"Foster brother," Morgana automatically corrected him, wanting it to be clear she was no relative of Arthur's, because if Merlin hadn't yet realized what a prat Arthur could be he would soon - probably the next time the blond opened his mouth in Merlin's presence.

"Whatever you say."

"But you did it with magic," Morgana continued, "right in front of everyone. Really, it's no wonder people . . . reacted badly. Even with this new alliance between our kingdoms, magic will not be readily accepted here in Camelot."

"Really? I had no idea," Merlin said in a tone fairly dripping with sarcasm. Then he softened slightly, sounding almost hopeful when he spoke again. "But you, at least, aren't afraid of what I am . . ." He took a hesitant step in her direction.

She unthinkingly backed away, only to be halted by the cold stone rail enclosing the balcony pressing into the small of her back. She glanced over her shoulder, confirming that she was cornered, then back at Merlin. _Please, don't push this - not yet, _she entreated him silently. He read her unspoken request in her eyes and backed off, moving to lean against the rail a yard or so away from her; he wouldn't try to get closer to her until she indicated that she was ready.

Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, she said softly, "I'm trying not to be." For a moment she considered voicing all her thoughts - _Indeed, your magic is only half the problem; I find the prospect of spending my life with you more worrying. What if I cannot love you, or you don't love me?_ - but the idea had no sooner crossed her mind than she decided against it. She didn't know whether he had been informed of that particular condition of the peace treaty, though she thought he probably had. Still, she didn't want to discuss marriage with someone she'd known less than a day. _This is a very hard position in which we find ourselves. _

A mirthless smile curled Merlin's lips, as if he were thinking the same thing; several long minutes passed as they gazed out over Camelot, the air between them thick with words neither was ready to say. A sudden gust of wind blew in their faces, slicing right through Morgana's thin nightgown and making her shiver. Merlin caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and turned to face her, frowning slightly. "Why were you wandering around in that flimsy thing?"

Morgana flushed and crossed her arms over her chest, even though Merlin wasn't showing any interest in discovering exactly how much he could see through her gown (unlike certain other men would were they in his place); all she sensed from him was concern, and perhaps disapproval. "It grew too hot in my chambers," she said defensively. "I came out here in search of a little fresh air."

"Well, you'll catch your death if you aren't careful." As he admonished the somewhat offended lady of Camelot, Merlin shrugged off his coat and offered it to her. "Put this on."

Morgana blinked, her ire vanishing at his thoughtful gesture. "Oh . . . all right." She took the surprisingly heavy jacket and hesitantly draped it over her shoulders, commenting, "I've never seen anything like this," as she ran her fingers over the sleeve. "What sort of material is it?"

"What do you think it is?"

"It appears to be . . . scales." Merlin nodded. Morgana's brow wrinkled with confusion. "But what creature has scales so large? And just what is amusing you so?" she demanded, because Merlin was smirking at her as though she were missing something very obvious.

"Dragons - they're the only creatures with scales that size."

"Oh." It _was_ obvious now Morgana thought about it, considering who Merlin's father was. But, "I didn't think a dragonlord would use his power to _kill_ dragons," she said carefully.

Merlin was shocked. "Of course not! Dragons shed their skins as they grow, like snakes; we only make use of their hides and such after the original owners don't need them anymore. The dragons don't mind."

"I shouldn't think so; they're animals, aren't they?" Morgana spoke derisively, as if Merlin had suggested that sheep might mind having their wool shorn for spinning.

Merlin fought an urge to drop his head into his hands and groan - the girl clearly knew nothing about how things were in his kingdom. He opened his mouth, only to find himself lost for words - how was he supposed to explain his way of life to someone so completely different? Still, he had to try, because Morgana wouldn't last long in Dagon with her current attitude. "Actually, dragons are-" He broke off at the sound of footsteps from within the castle.

"That must be more guards making their nightly rounds. Damn!" Morgana hissed. As an unmarried young noblewoman, she technically wasn't allowed to be alone with men, not to mention the fact that being seen wearing only her nightgown and Merlin's scaly jacket would be mortifying.

"Come on!" Grabbing her wrist, Merlin pulled her to the arched doorway leading out onto the balcony, where they flattened themselves against the castle's outer wall and listened to the guards approach, hardly daring to breathe.

"All quiet here; let's head off. I wonder if the tavern is still open?"

"We're supposed to patrol every corridor, not just glance down them! Let's check that balcony - there could be an enemy scaling the walls this minute."

Morgana closed her eyes, resigning herself to embarrassment and possibly a scolding from Uther. Of course it would be just her luck that, on one of the few occasions when she wanted to go unnoticed, a newly recruited guard - some eager young fellow who strutted about yelling "Halt!" and "Who goes there?" and brandishing his weapon at every smallest sign of movement - would be assigned to patrol the part of the castle where she happened to be. The Fates must hate her.

The overzealous guard - a boy who looked about sixteen or seventeen, as she'd predicted - swaggered right out to the balcony's edge, peered over the railing, then reluctantly turned away, looking disappointed at not spying an invading army climbing the wall. He made his dejected way back inside the castle - and, amazingly, passed right by Merlin and Morgana.

Morgana couldn't believe it. They should have been clearly visible where they stood with their backs pressed to the wall, and her white gown almost glowed in the moonlight. How could they not have been discovered?

"That was close." Even after the guards were gone, Merlin still spoke softly. "I think you and I had better return to our rooms, before we really do get caught."

"I doubt we need to worry about that - those guards must be the most unobservant men in all of Albion! Unless . . ." Morgana's eyes widened as realization dawned. "You used magic to keep him from seeing us, didn't you?"

"Not much - it was just a minor stealth spell, to make us unnoticeable. It probably wouldn't have held up if he'd actually been looking for us, but-" Merlin stopped himself; the lady probably didn't want a lecture on stealth spells versus true invisibility spells. "I should return you to your chambers."

Morgana's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I can make it there on my own, thank you. And I will return to my chambers when I want to, not a moment sooner - you don't get to order me around just yet, _my lord_." She made to stalk off, but before she could-

"I wouldn't dream of it, my lady."


	13. His Sister's Keeper

**This was meant to be the Arthur-centric chapter, until Morgana showed up and booted him out of the spotlight. Yet another instance of this story taking on a life of its own. Still, Arthur has his moments. He's also a bit of a prat. Sorry guys - I really do like Arthur, honest!**

Things were changing in Camelot, and Prince Arthur (who wasn't nearly as dense as Morgana believed) had noticed. It wasn't simply that the long war with Dagon had ended - Camelot was always making and breaking alliances with the other kingdoms of Albion; their politics were constantly in flux. But they had never had an ally quite like Merlin.

On the first morning of their stay, he and his men had joined the knights of Camelot for their regular training session. Everything had gone well until Leon disarmed and cornered Merlin, at which point the warlock - who had been gamely avoiding using magic because he knew it made people nervous - had turned the dry ground beneath Leon's feet into a puddle of thick, sucking mud; the knight sank into it up to his ankles and was trapped for a long, uncomfortable moment until Merlin realized what he had done and reversed the spell.

"He did it on purpose!" Arthur had complained loudly the instant Merlin was out of earshot. "He knows the people of Camelot are still scared of magic, and I'd wager he's having a laugh at us!"

But, "I can assure you he isn't," Lancelot, who had overheard Arthur, said quietly. "He didn't mean to create that mud-trap; it was an accident."

"How can you tell? You're no sorcerer."

"No, I'm not, but I do know Merlin. He isn't like most sorcerers - he didn't learn magic, he was born with it. It's instinctive in him. When Sir Leon was bearing down on him, I'm sure he just reacted."

Arthur hadn't wanted to admit it, but he had been shaken. All his life he had held the view, taught to him by his father, that sorcerers chose to be what they were, that they deliberately toyed with the unnatural forces of magic. He had never heard of anyone being _born_ that way, and knowing that some of the people who practiced magic might not have a choice had challenged his perception of the world in ways he didn't much care for.

Learning about Merlin's innate magic wasn't what bothered Arthur most, though; it was an incident that had occurred just a few hours ago. On his way to have breakfast with his father, Arthur had witnessed Merlin tripping and nearly falling down a flight of stairs - not that there was anything very strange about that. What was strange was that he had been saved from falling by Morgana, and as he thanked her, she had smiled at him. Not the smirk or sneer that visiting noblemen usually got from her, but an actual, genuine _smile!_ Arthur didn't know what to make of it. He did, however, decide it was time he had a little chat with Merlin . . .

. . . Which was why they were now out riding, just the two of them, unaccompanied by even their servants. Merlin probably wondered at the reason for that but hadn't said anything about it, making Arthur wonder what was going on inside his head. It seemed not to have crossed his mind that Arthur could have brought him out here to attack him, which seemed rather stupidly trusting of him - or maybe he was simply confident that if that were the case, he would be able to deal with Arthur easily. And maybe he could at that; they had come close to finishing each other off on the battlefield several times, but something - a stray arrow, or spell-fire, or another man coming between them, or, most recently, a dragon falling out of the sky - had always stopped them from going through with it. Fate? Or merely a string of coincidences? If asked, Arthur would pick the latter. He didn't like the idea of anything bigger than himself controlling his destiny.

When they stopped to let their horses drink from a stream Merlin asked, "So, are you going to tell me why you suggested riding out alone, when you normally have that Cedric fellow following you everywhere like a lost puppy?"

"There is something I must ask you - a private matter - and I demand an honest answer."

"All right." A moment of silence, then: "Well, are you going to ask me anything or not? Contrary to what some of the more imaginative townspeople are saying about me, I can't actually hear what you're thinking!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow in a manner reminiscent of Gaius. "You can't?"

"One of the books in our library back home did mention a spell that would let you hear anyone's thoughts, any time, but the only sorcerer ever known to have tried it ended up hearing so many voices in his head that he went mad . . . but that's beside the point. Your question?"

"Oh, right." Arthur put on what he fancied was an intimidating scowl. "I want to know what there is between you and the Lady Morgana."

"Nothing."

Arthur was still suspicious. "You aren't courting her, then?"

"No." It was true; unsure of how to win Morgana's affections and not wanting to undo whatever progress he might have made toward convincing her not to hate him, Merlin hadn't attempted any romantic advances.

"Oh . . . well . . . good," Arthur muttered, feeling foolish now that his suspicions had turned out to be unfounded.

"Why would you think that I was?"

"Because even though Morgana is completely insufferable once you get to know her, some men who don't know better find her . . . attractive." He grimaced, showing his disgust at the idea of anyone being attracted to Morgana.

"I don't think she's insufferable," Merlin said in his best neutral tone.

Arthur gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. "That's because you don't know her very well."

Merlin pulled away from him. "It's getting late; we should return to the castle." As he remounted he leaned forward to whisper in his horse's delicately tapered ear, "Arthur is a prat, isn't he?"

The stallion snorted and bobbed his head as if in agreement.

###

Gwen slid the final hairpin into place in her mistress's dark locks, then stepped back to admire her handiwork. "There! You look beautiful."

Morgana peered into the mirror, tilting her head this way and that in order to examine her face from every angle. Her gray-green eyes were outlined in black, her lips painted a luscious, seductive red, and she was wearing her most revealing dress, which she had been saving. That was the advantage to having guests stay for the whole week: Uther held feasts every night to entertain them, so Morgana got to wear all her very best dresses rather than having to pick just one.

At last, she declared her appearance satisfactory. She and Gwen proceeded downstairs to the room off the dining hall; Gwen slipped away to join the other servants, but no one noticed her taking her place on the crowd's fringes. All eyes were on Morgana, as had been the case every evening since the peacemaking celebration had commenced four days ago - and no one was disappointed tonight.

Several men's mouths were gaping wide enough to catch flies, and their eyes almost looked to be in danger of popping free from their sockets. Even Arthur murmured, "God have mercy," as he took in the smooth, creamy skin exposed by Morgana's dress - and she had thoughtfully worn her hair up so that even it didn't cover her outrageously bare shoulders.

She paused for a moment to savor the admiration before allowing her eyes to seek out the one person whose reaction she really wanted to see - and there he was, with Arthur; they must have been talking before the sight of Morgana rendered Merlin speechless. Now he was staring at her with something like wonder. Morgana approved, and decided that she would grant him the privilege of escorting her to her seat when the feast began.

Every night she had arrived in the dining hall's entrance chamber alone and chosen someone different to accompany her to the royal table and pull her chair out for her. On the first night - the night Mary Collins had tried to assassinate Arthur - her escort had been Sir Leon; the night after that it had been a knight from Dagon she thought was called Sir Belvedere, then Sir Pellinore, and last night it had been Sir Lancelot - never Arthur (he became so amusingly irritated when she ignored him), and never Merlin . . . because her feelings toward the sorcerer prince were still an utter mess.

On the one hand, she had detected nothing in him to cause alarm, nothing at all to suggest that he was unworthy of her heart; on the other, she was not yet prepared to fully give it. She definitely didn't despise him with every fiber of her being, as she had planned to before meeting him, but she couldn't tell whether her attraction to him was destined to be short-lived, or if it might develop into love over time.

She hid her confused emotions behind a coy smile and curtseyed. "My lord."

Merlin shook off the fog that seeing Morgana had created in his mind and acknowledged her with a slight bow. "My lady." A trumpet blast summoned them to the dining hall, and he politely offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Arthur watched through narrowed eyes as his foster sister linked arms with Merlin and followed a step behind them as they entered the hall, scrutinizing their movements much as he would those of an animal he was hunting. He believed Merlin's assurances that he wasn't courting Morgana - indeed, he didn't appear to be fawning over her the way all of her previous suitors had - but there was _something_ between them. Arthur sensed it but couldn't define it, which troubled him. Morgana was practically his sister, and as such it was his duty to protect her, both from physical harm _and_ harmful influences. Although he had no evidence yet, he was beginning to suspect that Merlin might fall into that second category.

###

Morgana was bored. The food had been delicious, the jugglers had been rather amazing . . . and then Uther got up to make a speech. Morgana had listened to the first few words, and then her mind had wandered. Having heard Uther say much the same thing on several previous occasions, she felt no need to pay close attention - until she heard herself mentioned.

". . . it is the great pleasure of both myself and King Balinor to announce the royal engagement of Prince Merlin to my own ward, the Lady Morgana." He raised his goblet and toasted, "To Merlin and Morgana!"

"To Merlin and Morgana!" the guests echoed, raising their glasses high and then drinking deeply. Only three people refrained from joining in: the subjects of the toast themselves, and Arthur. Upon hearing the words 'engagement', 'Merlin', and 'Morgana' in the same sentence, Arthur slammed his hand down beside his plate, inadvertently hitting the handle of his spoon and catapulting a gobbet of vegetables in cream sauce through the air to hit Cedric in the face.

Morgana rolled her eyes at him, then glanced sideways at Merlin . . . who was watching her apprehensively, his blue eyes wide as he waited for her reaction to Uther's announcement. When their gazes met, he gave her a hesitant half-smile. She smiled back, trying to show him that this wasn't an unpleasant surprise to her. It seemed to reassure him; he relaxed, and his expression warmed slightly, became a little less guarded.

_He may not be easy to read, but I think I can at least be sure our engagement does not displease him._ Suddenly Morgana wasn't ready for the feast to end - she felt like celebrating. To her delight, Uther called for the court musicians to begin playing, and some of the courtiers got up to dance.

She and Merlin looked at each other; then he swallowed nervously and asked, "Um . . . would you like to dance, my lady? With me?"

"All right." She took his hand and let him lead her into the center of the hall, where there was a dance floor of sorts bordered on three sides by the tables.

Dancing with Merlin was easy, effortless; it was almost as though they belonged in one another's arms . . . Morgana banished the thought from her mind as soon as it formed - it was entirely too fanciful.

"What's on your mind, my lady?"

Morgana dropped her gaze, thankful that the top of her head only came up to his collarbone; he couldn't make eye contact without bending down or forcing her chin up. "Nothing that would be of any interest to you, I'm sure."

"I am interested, believe me."

Merlin sounded so sincere that Morgana was startled into meeting his eyes and for a moment couldn't think how to respond. Very few people had ever shown much interest in her thoughts. In fact, she suspected that most people - with the exceptions of Gwen, Arthur, and Uther - saw her chiefly as a pretty, living ornament to decorate the court of Camelot. Still, although Merlin's interest pleased her, she didn't feel like sharing with him, especially since her current thoughts centered on him more than she cared to admit. "Be that as it may," she said at length, "my thoughts are private."

"Fair enough. Tell me, did you know my father and King Uther intended us to marry? Your guardian's announcement seemed to surprise Prince Arthur more than you."

Morgana grinned. "Things frequently surprise Arthur; he's so habitually oblivious. Sometimes I've wondered whether he would notice if his closest friend were practicing magic right under his nose - not that there is anything wrong with practicing magic," she hastily added, mindful of who she was talking to. Then, to divert his attention, she answered his question. "Yes, I knew of the kings' plans for us."

"And you're okay with it?"

"I am now." She gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I was furious at first, but you aren't as horrid as I had imagined you'd be."

Merlin blinked. "Thanks . . . I think."

The song ended and they quickly stepped back from each other. As the musicians struck up another, slower tune Morgana opened her mouth to tell Merlin she wanted to dance again, but before she could say anything Arthur popped up in the small space between them. "May I cut in?"

"All right." Merlin shuffled off to join his father at the high table, happy to have an excuse not to dance anymore.

Morgana placed her right hand on Arthur's shoulder and her left hand in his right, wondering what he was up to. He had a look on his face that she had come to associate with imminent prattishness. They danced, and as they did he steered her over to the edge of the hall, until he was able to discreetly pull her into a servants' passage leading down to the kitchens. Then he released his grip on her hand and waist and hissed, "Are you mad?"

"What? You dragged me out of a celebration that I was quite enjoying just to question my sanity? You'd better have a very good reason for this, Arthur Pendragon."

"And you'd better have a good reason for agreeing to marry a man you've known less than a week! Really, Morgana, what were you thinking, accepting him?"

"Now I know you have a dried up, shriveled _pea_ for a brain, Arthur. Do you honestly think I would have accepted if he had simply proposed to me? Uther arranged this match before Merlin and I even met - I had no choice!"

"He _what_? No . . . no, he wouldn't do that to you . . ."

"I assure you he did." Morgana folded her arms across her chest. "I know what you're thinking, Arthur, and I'm afraid you have no chance of persuading him to change his mind, not after he's announced in front of the whole court that I will marry Merlin. He cannot go back on his word now."

"We'll see about that! I'll get you out of this mess, don't worry." Arthur strode determinedly back into the hall, intent on confronting his father at his earliest opportunity.

**Next time: Arthur has a 'talk' with Uther (and Morgana's probably gloating over causing our favorite leather glove-obsessed king a little headache), and Freya attempts an impossible mission: extracting Gwaine from a tavern! And I'm sure there will be more M/M moments - the ship is officially up and running, I think. **


	14. Persuasion

**IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: review replies now go through the private messaging system, so I now have no way of getting in touch with reviewers who have disabled PMing. For those people who reviewed ch13, here's my replies.**

**Revan Knight: Gwaine's background is pretty much the same as in canon with one minor deviation, which I think I've adequately explained in this chapter. If you still have questions after reading it, feel free to ask. The more I work on this story, the more ideas I get for it, and now I think we could very possibly be looking at 30+ chapters, which means I'll probably still be working on it at Christmas.**

**Brainbowcrazy: Thank you so much! It means a lot and helps me out when readers take time to tell me what they like – and if they can't find anything to criticize, well that's even better! **

Morgana watched him go and hoped he wasn't about to do something foolish, like barging into the dining hall and shouting at Uther in front of everyone – which was exactly the kind of thing Arthur would do. His righteous indignation on her behalf was touching, but she didn't want him to get in trouble because of her.

_But this is not my fault, _she argued with herself. _I haven't tried to goad him into anything; I merely told him the truth. I can hardly help that he reacted badly._ Still, it _would_ be her fault if she let him embarrass himself and the entire court of Camelot by disagreeing with the king in public without at least trying to stop him. "Arthur, wait," she called out, rushing after him – only to have her progress halted when someone else entered the narrow passageway.

She recognized the newcomer as Merlin's manservant, who she had seen enough to know by sight but never spoken to. "Oh, hello . . . It's Will, isn't it?"

For a split second his face showed surprise at meeting her there; then his surprise vanished and was replaced by a sneer almost as eloquently disdainful as Morgana's own. "You? What are _you_ doing here? There's no one here to admire you, in case you haven't noticed."

"Excuse me?" To Morgana's knowledge, she'd had no contact with this boy unless one counted passing him in the corridors or courtyard; certainly she had done nothing that warranted the venom in his voice when he spoke to her.

"You think everybody loves you, don't you?" Will went on. "You think no one can see through that pretty face to what you are underneath?"

"What I am?" Morgana was more confused than ever, but now she was also growing angry. Her voice shook slightly as she asked, "And what is it you think I am?"

"Uther's little puppet," Will hissed as he moved closer. "Why else would he want you to marry Merlin, eh?"

Morgana scoffed. "I'm no one's puppet, and I will not listen to another word of this. You are delusional." She made to sweep past him.

He blocked her way. "Am I? I don't think so."

"Let me pass." Morgana tried to push him aside so she could pass him, but he was larger and strong enough to resist her.

"Whatever you're planning, I'll see that you don't get away with it-"

"Oh, I'm terrified." Morgana rolled her eyes and gave Will another useless shove.

"-Not that I think you'll have much success spreading Uther's views to our kingdom anyway. Nobody back home wants you there."

This affected Morgana sufficiently that she ceased her efforts to budge the servant. She knew there must be some lingering animosity toward Camelot among the people of Dagon – the war had claimed many lives and driven countless other people from their homes – but she had never before considered what this might mean for her personally. After all, she was only a ward of the house of Pendragon, not a real part of the royal family. Surely people wouldn't hate her simply because she had been taken in by Uther . . . would they?

"Lady Morgana?" called a new voice from behind Will. "Will, have you seen the Lady Morgana anywhere?"

Morgana leaned around Will so Merlin could see her. "I'm here."

Merlin grinned, pleased to have found her; then he took in her downcast expression. His grin faded as his eyebrows drew together. "What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes flicking from her to Will and back.

Will moved quickly away from the lady. "Nothing – I was just on my way to the kitchens to fetch more wine when I ran into your fiancée. Though what she was doing in a servants' passage I can't imagine." He walked stiffly away, going about his business even though he was plainly still riled up after confronting Morgana.

Merlin frowned at his retreating back – he could always tell when his friends were withholding something from him – then turned and faced Morgana. Before he could speak, she preemptively asked why he had left the feast. "I saw you go in here with Arthur," he explained, "and then he came back without you, and he looked angry." Merlin paused, then sheepishly continued, "I know it's not really my business what goes on between you and your brother, but if you'd quarreled I wanted to . . . check on you. I noticed earlier today that he can be a bit of a prat." He smiled to take some of the sting out of his words and was rewarded with a soft giggle from Morgana.

"Arthur can be very much a prat, but he is a good man underneath. What did he do after he returned to the hall?" _Please, please don't let him have started arguing with Uther, _she prayed.

"He went back to his chair and sat there sulking. It made me wonder what you'd said to him – my lady," Merlin hastily added in an attempt to be more polite, aware that his natural curiosity was getting the better of him again and he was being rather nosy.

"I may have said some things Arthur didn't like to hear, but I assure you I did not quarrel with him."

"With Will, then?" Merlin prodded. "I noticed he was . . . tense."

Morgana's shoulders hunched defensively. "Your servant does seem to have a particular ire for me," she admitted.

"No, he doesn't."

"You think not?" Morgana asked incredulously. "Forgive me, my lord, but you did not hear what he said."

"It's Uther that Will dislikes. He has no right to take it out on _you_ though." Merlin's voice grew colder, and Morgana fancied she could actually feel the temperature dropping. "I'll have a word with him."

Unexpectedly, Morgana felt a stab of sympathy for the rude manservant – she wouldn't want to be faced with Merlin's frosty wrath. "I don't want to cause any trouble," she murmured, for once sounding like the demure young lady she was supposed to be.

"You haven't; Will causes himself plenty of trouble all on his own. Please don't worry about it, my lady." He gave her a slight bow and departed, leaving Morgana to reflect that she had unintentionally set off two confrontations in one night.

###

Two hours later, when everyone was too tired to stay up any later celebrating the royal engagement, Merlin finally escaped to his room. Will was already there, turning down the bed – not being one of Uther's honored guests, he'd been allowed to leave much sooner than his master.

"So, you stayed till the end," he observed as Merlin entered. "Could it be you've finally learned to enjoy court gatherings?"

"I always have," Merlin retorted. "It's being the center of attention I don't like. Thank the gods I can only get engaged once."

Will grimaced at being reminded why the feast had lasted so long, and Merlin was in turn reminded that he needed to talk to Will about his attitude toward Morgana. He was too tired to subtly segue into the topic, so instead he simply asked, "What did you say to the Lady Morgana before I found you in that passage, Will? Whatever it was really upset her."

"What did she tell you? If she said I-"

Merlin cut him off. "She told me nothing! But I know you, Will; you don't like her, and you've never been good at keeping your opinions to yourself. Most of the time I like that about you, but this time you've taken it too far."

"Why? What is it about this girl that makes you so protective of her?"

"Well, she-I-I'm not . . . protective of her," the warlock stumblingly protested.

"Then why do you care if I'm rude to her?" Will demanded.

"Because," Merlin snapped, "she's your future queen. You should show her some respect."

"You've always said that noble blood alone doesn't entitle someone to respect, that they have to earn it."

"Maybe she would if you gave her a chance! Look, that's all I'm asking. I'm not saying you have to like her, just don't let your perception of her be colored by your feelings toward her guardian. Can you do that?"

Will grumbled, sighed loudly, and grumbled some more.

"Come on, Will. We've known each other since we were children, and you're one of the few _real_ friends I have," Merlin said softly.

Will heaved another sigh. "Oh, all right. If you insist. I'll try to be nicer to Uther's precious little princess. Just tell me one thing: are you asking because you think I'm being unfair, or because you're falling in love with her?"

"Wh-what? I'm not in love with her!"

"Come on, you can tell me – since we've known each other so long."

Merlin huffed. "I am _not_ in love with Lady Morgana."

Will rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Merlin."

Merlin spent a good part of that night lying awake, wondering what had prompted Will to ask such a question in the first place. Was there something in his behavior to suggest that he had feelings for Morgana? _Did_ he in fact have feelings for her? It was true that he liked her more than he ever had anyone else – she was so different from every other noblewoman he knew, so bright and spirited, and when she smiled . . .

He snorted and rolled over, knowing that if he let his mind start down that track he'd never get any sleep. He'd been very protective of Freya when he first brought her to the palace at Dagon, and in some ways he still was, but no one apart from Will had ever accused him of being in love with _her_ – and he had only done that because he didn't understand why Merlin was never interested in anyone.

_This time is no different – it's just Will's imagination again . . . Right?_ He turned onto his back, stared up at the canopy over his bed, and sleep continued to elude him.

###

Arthur walked quickly and quietly down the empty, darkened corridors, intent on reaching the king's chambers before Uther retired to bed. He wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight if he didn't say the words that were buzzing furiously inside his mind. Luckily, when he reached Uther's chambers he saw the glow of candlelight under the door; he knocked and was granted entrance.

Uther was sitting on his bed, wearing his dressing-gown, and seemed surprised but thankfully not too annoyed by the late visit. "Yes, Arthur, what is it?"

"I wish to speak with you privately."

"Of course." The king of Camelot dismissed his servants, turned to his son and asked, "What's on your mind?"

Too full of nervous tension to stand still, Arthur began pacing the length of the fireplace. "I had a very interesting talk with Morgana after your announcement at dinner. She's under the impression that her engagement is some sort of political arrangement between yourself and King Balinor."

Uther nodded. "Don't be so shocked, Arthur. Marriage is a time-honored method of strengthening alliances."

"Father," Arthur exploded, "_what_ were you thinking? They barely know each other! _You_ hardly know Merlin – how can you be certain that he'll be . . . good . . . for Morgana?"

"Since they were introduced I have seen nothing to suggest that Morgana and Prince Merlin are incompatible." Uther got up, crossed the room to where Arthur was pacing, and stopped him with a firm hand on his arm. "My decision is final," he continued sternly, "and I will not have you questioning my judgment. I have already given Balinor my word that Morgana will marry his son; to back out now would be to risk war again. Do you understand?"

_I understand that you're sacrificing Morgana's happiness for the good of Camelot._ Though he hated to admit it, Arthur could see the reasoning behind his father's decision. What was the happiness of one girl, after all, when compared to the lives of so many of their people? Arthur realized then that not only would he be unable to change Uther's mind, he really shouldn't be trying. The consequences, should he succeed, would be unacceptable.

However, he wasn't ready to give up completely. If he couldn't free Morgana from political entanglements, he could at least see to her wellbeing – for a while. "I understand perfectly, sire. If Morgana must marry, then I humbly request your permission to accompany her to Dagon, to act as her chaperone until her wedding."

"I had intended to appoint one of the knights for that task . . ."

Uther was taken aback by the request but hadn't instantly refused; sensing his father's indecision, Arthur pounced. "I've grown up with Morgana; she's like a sister to me. Once she's married I'll see much less of her, obviously, and it would make our separation easier if I could satisfy myself that she will be well taken care of in her new home, that Merlin will treat her as she deserves. Please, Father."

"Yes, naturally we will all miss Morgana, especially those of us who have known her longest. But you are crown prince-"

"And you are king," Arthur interrupted. "As long as Camelot has you, surely it can get along without me for a while. Sir Leon can take over my duties with the knights, and there must be someone on your council capable of fulfilling my administrative duties." Having made his argument, Arthur held his breath while his father thought over it.

After a long moment of deliberation Uther sighed and said, "Very well, I will grant your request. It eases my mind to know that Morgana will have a chaperone so devoted to her welfare."

"Thank you, Father."

Arthur left the king's chambers considerably happier than he had been when he came, satisfied that he had done everything in his power to help his sister. He had even managed to ensure that she wouldn't be alone in her new home. _Morgana will be so grateful when I tell her. _

###

Freya hurried down a maze of dark streets, heading for a place she normally avoided: the local tavern. She paused outside, braced herself for the leers and catcalls of the more inebriated customers, then raised her hand to open the door. At that moment something heavy thudded against the door's other side, holding it shut. Freya could hear similar noises and raised voices from inside. Sighing, she stood back and muttered, _"Locum rei vi."_ Her dark eyes flashed gold, and the tavern door flew open with a wall-shaking _bang_.

The occupants froze, staring at the slender, seemingly unimposing serving girl; she stared back, scanning every face until she found Gwaine. As expected, he was at the center of the chaos, pinning a man down on a table with his fist raised to punch him in the nose. The man's friend gripped his arm in an apparent effort to hold him back.

Freya sighed. "Gwaine! What do you think you're doing?"

Gwaine's second opponent let go of his arm and took a threatening step forward. "Nose out, girl, this doesn't concern you."

_"Teneat!"_ The man stopped dead, trapped in an invisible web of magic. His friend took advantage of the distraction to free himself from Gwaine's grip and send him flying with a thrust spell; then he turned his attention to Freya. He threw a bench at her. She ducked.

Gwaine shoved him from behind. "Leave her alone!" With his adversary off-balance, Gwaine pressed his advantage, spinning him around and delivering a blow to his head that knocked him out cold. "You all right, Freya?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Her eyes widened as they fixed on a point over Gwaine's shoulder. "But you may not be."

"Wha-?" Gwaine turned around just in time to see the fat, red-faced proprietor of the tavern coming his way, puffing indignantly.

"You!" he shouted, waving a thick finger in Gwaine's face. "Just look at the mess you've made of my tavern! And Prince Merlin isn't here to pull your fat out of the fire this time – I'll see you in the stocks for this!"

Freya nudged Gwaine out of the way before he could respond. "Excuse me, sir," she said politely, "I believe this will cover the damages to your tavern." She took a handful of coins out of her purse. The barkeep instantly became much calmer. "Perhaps for a little extra you could let my friend go?"

"Oh, aye, miss, I could do that." The man's small eyes gleamed greedily as Freya handed over more coins, and he made no protest at all when she hurried Gwaine out the door.

Gwaine, however, did. "What did you do that for? I didn't need you coming to my rescue!" he growled, ripping his arm from her grasp. "And where'd you get all that money?"

"I took it from Merlin's chambers – he wanted you kept out of trouble, so I decided he wouldn't mind. Gwaine, haven't you learned your lesson about brawling in the tavern? That was what landed you in the stables."

"Yes, and if it wasn't for that night I could've been miles out of Dagon by now." It had been a month ago when Gwaine had wandered into the kingdom's main citadel, looking for nothing more than a few drinks, some pickled eggs, and perhaps a little female company before moving on. These plans had come crashing down when he met Prince Merlin and shortly afterward injured the royal horse-master in a fight much like the one Freya had interrupted tonight, rendering the man unable to work.

King Balinor would have sentenced him to five hours a day in the stocks over the next week, fined him, and had done with it, but then Merlin intervened on his new friend's behalf, pointing out that putting Gwaine in the stocks would still leave them shorthanded in the stables. So Gwaine had instead been sentenced to take over the horse-master's job of training the knights' mounts. He wasn't complaining; steady employment, while a bit restrictive, was a better option than a fine he couldn't pay and being pelted with rotten vegetables. It was also an excuse to stay near Merlin, Will, and Freya, and though Gwaine would never admit it he was in no hurry to leave behind the first true friends he'd ever had.

As if echoing his thoughts Freya said, "You can say that all you like, but I don't believe you really hate being here as much as you let on."

Gwaine glanced sharply at her. This wasn't the first time she had shown an uncanny empathy for the people around her, and he'd occasionally seen it from Merlin as well, making him wonder just how safe his thoughts were with his magically gifted new friends. "There is something a bit comforting about knowing where you'll be sleeping at night," he said, trying to sound careless.

"Oh, really?" The hood of Freya's cloak was up, obscuring her face, but Gwaine could picture her eyebrows arching skeptically. "Your only reason for staying is because you're tired of drifting from place to place?"

"Well, I- What is that?" A huge, winged shape had suddenly blotted out the moonlight, plunging the street into even deeper darkness.

"It looks like a dragon."

"I don't think so," Gwaine said slowly. "It's smaller than most dragons, and the head isn't the right shape . . ." The creature twisted sideways, throwing itself into sharp moonlit illumination. Finally able to see it clearly, Gwaine yelled, "It's a wyvern! Get down!" He pushed Freya to the ground and crouched protectively over her as the wyvern swooped out of the sky, talons extended, and the peaceful main street erupted into pandemonium.


	15. Merlin's Farewell, Morgana's Favor

**Locaxox: Thank you very much. I hope this update qualifies as soon...? **

It was well past evening but not yet late into the night, so while the streets weren't as crowded as they would be in the middle of the day, there were still a few people out and about. One of those unfortunate people, who Gwaine recognized as the boy who delivered fresh meat from the butcher's to the tavern, was snatched up in the wyvern's talons less than six feet away from him and Freya. Her horrified gasp was drowned out by the beast's triumphant scream as it ascended sharply with a hard flap of its powerful wings, eager to make off with its prey.

Two more screeching cries answered it, and Gwaine's heart sank; his hope that the creature was hunting alone had just been dashed. "We need to get off the street," he hissed.

Freya turned blankly uncomprehending brown eyes on him; she was too distraught over the sad fate of the butcher's boy to recall any of what she had read about the monsters.

"Wyverns almost always hunt in threes," Gwaine reminded her. "That means there are two more not far behind this one." Freya's eyes widened in fear. "Follow me, stay low to the ground, and _move quietly_."

They half-ran, half-crawled to the nearest building, where they were finally able to stand up straight with their backs flattened against the wall. "What now?"

"We'll be safe inside the castle walls; getting there will be the hard part." As if to show the truth of Gwaine's words, the wyverns' hunting cries sounded again and were answered by a chorus of screams from the townsfolk. "Why are they coming out to gawk at the monsters? Why not stay inside where they'd be safe?"

"Most of them are uneducated. Some are simply foolish." Freya kept her eyes tightly closed, not wanting to see who would meet their end this time.

"Come on, we can't stay here." Gwaine tried to pull Freya after him, but she resisted.

"No! If we move they'll see us!"

Seeing that his female friend was terrified nearly out of her wits, Gwaine tried to make his voice calm and soothing instead of impatient. "They'll be sure to see us eventually if we stay here, but if we keep close to the buildings and freeze if one comes close, there's a chance they won't be able to pick us out from the walls. Follow me." He led Freya through the narrowest alleys in the city, cursing the fact that he didn't have his sword with him every step of the way.

"Why," he wondered aloud after they reached their destination, "are the wyverns attacking the citadel? There's livestock in the countryside that would make easier prey."

"Wyverns are cousins to the dragons," explained Freya, who was much more clearheaded now that they were relatively safe, "so they're subject to the powers of dragonlords. King Balinor has been keeping them out for years since they're less civilized than the dragons. They must be taking the opportunity to attack while he's gone." She eyed the palace walls with some trepidation, wondering how many wyverns it would take to break through them.

Gwaine voiced the obvious solution. "So he needs to be brought back-" At that moment a group of knights passed the two commoners, loudly discussing tactics for securing the lower town and staving off the foul beasts. None of them mentioned summoning the king to drive them away. "-Which doesn't seem to have occurred to those clod-heads."

"Merlin and Sir Lancelot have always been the brains behind the knights of Dagon, but I wouldn't have thought they'd be completely _lost_ without them." Freya sighed. "I suppose you'll have to ride to Camelot and tell the king what's happened; it could be midday tomorrow before anyone else hits upon the idea. Under the circumstances, I'm sure no one will mind if you take one of the royal horses."

Gwaine quickly saddled the fastest horse in the stables while Freya gathered provisions for his trip so that he wouldn't have to lose time by stopping to hunt and retrieved the sword he had been carrying when he first arrived in Dagon. "Is there anything else you need?"

"How about a kiss for good luck?" he asked hopefully. Freya was his friend, but she was also a pretty girl and therefore not totally exempt from his attentions.

She wrinkled her nose slightly as she contemplated kissing Gwaine. He was attractive enough, she supposed, but she found his tendency to chase after anything in a skirt a bit off-putting. "Bring the king back here before those wyverns raze the city to the ground, and I'll consider kissing you."

"I'll hurry back, then." He gave her the roguish smile that had charmed women in every kingdom he had visited, swung onto the horse, and cantered away.

###

Gwaine saw two more wyverns circling overhead after he left the city, but neither seemed inclined to bother themselves with a lone horse and rider. The horse, sensing the presence of predatory creatures, rolled its eyes and snorted uneasily. Gwaine urged him to go faster. "Easy, boy. Let's just get out of here before they change their minds about ignoring us, yeah?" The horse lowered his head and ran on at even greater speed than before.

By riding at an almost constant gallop, pacing himself only as much as he needed to keep the horse from collapsing, stopping only when it needed water, Gwaine was able to reach Camelot in half the time such a journey would usually take. When at last he clattered into the courtyard of the Pendragons' palace and dismounted, the exhausted horse nearly collapsed. Gwaine tied him up, then looked for someone who could tell him where he might find Merlin and Balinor.

The guards stationed outside the castle's front entrance straightened up as he approached and, seeing that he was armed, reached for the hilts of their own swords. "Who goes there?" the older of the two demanded.

"I have an urgent message for Prince Merlin. Do you know where I can find him?"

They looked him over suspiciously. "You don't look like a courier from the court of Dagon. What kind of message do you have for King Uther's guest?"

"An urgent one," Gwaine reiterated. His patience was waning fast; there was no telling how much damage the wyverns had wreaked on his new home - for all he knew they could be devouring Freya _at this very moment_ - and these idiots were standing in his way. It was so tempting to simply fight his way past them, but if he did that he would still lose time searching the castle for Merlin - and fighting any other guards who questioned his purpose in being there, of course. "D'you know where Merlin is or not?"

The guards looked at one another, silently debating whether he might actually have something to say that the prince would want to hear. Most royals would resent having their daily activities disrupted for a mere peasant, but this man spoke as if he knew the prince of Dagon personally, dropping his title once he was sure the guards knew who he was talking about. If he really did have an important message, and they stopped him from delivering it . . .

"I do," a new, feminine voice piped up. The speaker was a dark-skinned, curly-haired girl in a lavender dress. Gwaine guessed she must be the personal maid of some high-born lady, and his guess was confirmed when the girl went on, "He's having lunch with my mistress. I can show you where, if you'd like . . .?"

"Lead the way."

###

Merlin, Morgana, and Arthur were enjoying lunch together in Arthur's chambers when Gwen entered and announced that a man had arrived from Dagon and asked to speak with Merlin - or rather, she tried to. The visitor barged in before she had finished speaking, went straight to Merlin, ushered him away from the table, and they commenced talking in low undertones.

Morgana wasn't able to make out what was said, but she observed Merlin's expression changing from pleased surprise at seeing the man to deep anxiety. She twisted her napkin in her hands and wished she could hear them; whatever news the man had brought, it was clearly upsetting Merlin. At last he rejoined her and Arthur, but only for the second it took him to excuse himself; then he left without another word.

The newcomer gave them a smile that was at once friendly and cocky. "Sorry to interrupt your meal, my lord-" he smiled a bit more broadly at Morgana "-and lovely lady. Carry on." Then he too left, presumably following Merlin.

Morgana and Arthur glanced at each other and then, by unspoken mutual agreement, rose and pursued the two men. Something was obviously amiss, and they wanted to find out what it was.

Cedric returned moments later with a fresh bowl of Morgana's favorite fruit to find the room deserted. "Sire?" he called out. "Lady Morgana? Prince Merlin?" No one answered. He shrugged, sat down at the table, and helped himself to the abandoned plates. It would be a shame to let perfectly good food go to waste.

###

"Your new friends are following us," Gwaine informed Merlin as they moved at a brisk walk through the maze of corridors inside the royal palace of Camelot.

"I expected they would; I'm sure they're curious."

"You mean they like to stick their noses in where they don't belong, like you?"

Merlin grinned. "Exactly."

"Where are you going?" Arthur asked as he and Morgana finally caught up.

"Gwaine's brought some news from home that I must pass on to my father immediately."

"Your father's rooms lie in the other direction," Morgana pointed out.

"I know that. He isn't in there."

"How can you-?"

Gwaine tapped Morgana on the arm to get her attention. "I wouldn't argue with him. Merlin has an uncanny knack for knowing where certain people are."

Merlin's instincts proved correct when they found Balinor in the yard behind the castle, feeding scraps of meat to a dog. He took in the worried frown on Merlin's face and asked, "What's the matter, son?"

"Gwaine's just told me that our kingdom has been attacked by wyverns, Father."

Morgana nudged Arthur and whispered, "Do you know what a wyvern is?"

"No idea," he whispered back, "but it's clearly something bad." Clearing his throat to catch the others' attention, he addressed Balinor. "Since you're now an ally of Camelot, I feel honor-bound to offer my assistance in defending your homeland, should you require it."

"I don't believe that'll be necessary. I am a dragonlord after all."

"Wyverns are related to dragons," Merlin explained, noticing Arthur's look of confusion. "Listen, we-" he indicated himself, Balinor, and Gwaine "-need to return home at once. If you want to help, you can tell King Uther what's happened."

"Give him our regrets for departing ahead of schedule," Balinor added.

"I'll see to it," Arthur promised, and rushed off to find Uther.

Balinor ordered Merlin to summon Lancelot, which Merlin did by magically touching the knight's mind and telling him to assemble their men and meet him at the stables, which was where Balinor had told him they were going first. Everyone seemed to have forgotten Morgana, at least until she went after them and grabbed Merlin's arm. "I was supposed to go with you when your party returned to Dagon at the end of the week-"

"Well, it looks like the plans have changed, princess," Gwaine told her, not unkindly. There was no malice and very little sarcasm in his tone; he was merely stating a fact.

Morgana ignored him and kept her eyes on Merlin's. "Am I to take it you no longer wish me to accompany you?"

"The situation's a little different now; I assumed you wouldn't want to leave two days early or risk being eaten by a monster. Was I wrong?"

"I-" Morgana bit her lip, which would earn her a scolding from Gwen if the maidservant were present. She had resigned herself to leaving her home and everyone she knew there (apart from Gwen and Arthur, who would be leaving with her), but the idea of trading her safe, familiar world for an unknown land where, she had learned from Merlin's servant Will, she might be quite unwelcome still unsettled her - she refused to say it _frightened_ her, even to herself - more than she cared to admit. At the same time, the thought of Merlin leaving her behind also distressed her. She realized that she had begun to think journeying into the unknown wouldn't be so bad with him by her side, only now it seemed that wasn't to be the case.

"It's all right, my lady - I understand perfectly." Merlin gave her a reassuring pat on the hand, then tripped over a cobblestone.

Gwaine caught him. "You really should watch where you're going, _sire_," he admonished, "instead of watching girls."

"Funny advice from _you_, Gwaine," Merlin retorted. "Still, you're right." He pulled his arm out of Morgana's slackened grip. "Please excuse me, my lady."

"Of course, my lord." She nodded to him and left, recognizing a dismissal when she heard one.

###

"You just _left_? You didn't even say goodbye to him?" Gwen turned from the window and faced her mistress, one hand on her hip. "What is wrong with you, Morgana?"

The lady reluctantly raised her eyes from her jewelry box, where she was pretending to rearrange her rings. "What should I have said, Gwen? That I wanted to go with him? But I am not certain that I did. That I did not want him to go? That's true, but he has to defend his kingdom - it's not as if he has a choice."

"Well, you shouldn't have let him go with no sign that you cared at all! Fortunately for you he hasn't gone yet; he's just saddling his horse now. You can still speak to him before he goes if you hurry."

"Much good that would do me. There are many things I might say to Prince Merlin, yet I can't seem to put any of them into words."

Gwen sighed. "_I_ shall go to him then, and tell him the Lady Morgana wishes him luck in fighting the . . . wyverns?"

Morgana nodded, affirming that wyverns were indeed the creatures Merlin was leaving to fight. On impulse, she picked out a monogrammed silk handkerchief and pressed it into the maid's hand. "Give him this as well - just to keep me on his mind until we meet again." She and Gwen shared conspiratorial smirks.

"I will do as you ask, my lady."

Gwen ran down to the courtyard, arriving at the same moment as Arthur and Uther. The latter said, "Arthur has informed me of the situation at your home, and that your immediate presence is required to deal with it. It is unfortunate that you must take your leave so soon."

"It is," Balinor agreed.

"If you are amenable, I shall send the Lady Morgana to you on the day originally scheduled for your departure."

"That will be fine. I've ordered Sir Lancelot and the rest of our men to remain here and see that she reaches Dagon safely."

Unnoticed by either of the two kings, Gwen slipped over to where Merlin was checking his horse's girth strap. "Excuse me, my lord . . ." She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, causing him to start slightly.

"Gwen? What are you doing here?" He looked around and was somewhat disappointed to see that the maid was alone. He had hoped he might see her mistress one more time before he left Camelot.

Guessing what, or rather _who_, he was searching for, Gwen smiled and said, "The Lady Morgana dislikes farewells. She did ask me to give you this." She offered the handkerchief, which he didn't take right away.

"For luck? I don't think I'll need much of that."

"It's not just for luck." Gwen glanced over her shoulder to make certain that Morgana hadn't changed her mind and come down - the lady would not be pleased if she heard what Gwen was about to tell Merlin. "My lady also hopes that you will think of her while you're apart."

"I'm sure I will." He finally held out his arm and allowed Gwen to tie Morgana's favor around his wrist like a silken bracelet. "Tell Lady Morgana-"

Balinor's loud voice drowned out whatever he had been about to say. "Merlin! Come along, son; we haven't got all day."

"Yes, Father." Merlin swung up onto his horse, paused and glanced down at Gwen. "You may want to stand back."

She obediently took a few backward paces, confused because Merlin, Balinor, Gwaine, and Will weren't kicking their horses into a gallop - she didn't seem to be in any danger of getting trampled. Then she saw Merlin's lips move as he murmured something too low for her to make out; his eyes flashed gold, and he and his three companions disappeared in a sudden gust of powerful wind and a flash of, not light exactly, but more properly its _absence_, as if a hole had been torn in the fabric of the world.

Gwen cried out in alarm and leapt away from the strange disturbance, came down with one foot on the hem of her dress, lost her balance, and crashed into Arthur, who automatically wrapped an arm around her waist to save her from falling. "Did you see-?" she gasped, unable to tear her eyes from the spot where the four men and their horses had vanished.

"I saw," Arthur replied, equally riveted. Then he came back to himself and realized that he was holding Morgana's maidservant in a rather inappropriate manner. He quickly set Gwen back on her feet and shuffled away from her, hoping his father hadn't noticed. Fortunately Uther was distracted by his guests' magical departure; he turned and went back inside the castle without a word.

Flustered, Gwen tugged pointlessly at her dress, convinced that it needed straightening. "Thank you, sire," she said sheepishly, staring intently at Arthur's boots.

"It wasn't your fault, Guinevere - you fell, and I happened to be standing there. It's nothing. I've had girls fall over me before."

Arthur's attempt to smooth over the awkwardness with humor backfired; Gwen misinterpreted it as cockiness and suddenly remembered why she couldn't stand him. She stomped off, pausing only to throw him a disgusted look.

_What's the matter with her? _Arthur wondered. _Was it something I said?_

###

Morgana had seen everything from her window, and decided she was not at all sorry she hadn't gone with Merlin. She enjoyed his company, but she thought his mode of travel might not agree with her.

**So here we are with another chapter completed, and Arthur has accidentally made a prat of himself again. Now we have to ask ourselves, will there be enough chapters in this story for him to improve? I know I said it would be long, but this is Arthur we're talking about, so his improvement could take a while. Also, apologies to everyone who wanted to see Merlin and Morgana road-tripping together, or wanted Freya to kiss Gwaine. **


	16. The Departure

**Hello! Just wanted to let y'all know that I haven't died, nor is this story abandoned. I just had one of my periodic attacks of writer's block. **

**Warning: Morgana is angsty in this chapter, Gwaine is the world's snarkiest wingman, Gwen is totally awesome, and Arthur and Uther are...well, Arthur and Uther. 'Nuff said. **

The next two days were some of the busiest, most emotionally exhausting of Morgana's life. Her departure from Camelot was rapidly approaching, and there suddenly seemed to be so many places which held some special meaning for her that she needed to visit one last time, so many people for whom she held sufficiently high regard to merit a long, private farewell, that she doubted she could do it all in the time she had left.

Saying goodbye wasn't the only thing she had to do, either. "We need to go through your dresses," Gwen reminded her over dinner, "and decide if you want to take all of them so that I can begin packing. Of course, after the wedding you'll be a crown princess, so you may need to replace everything with a new, grander wardrobe. And we don't even know what the fashions are in Dagon - we've only seen what the men wear. They seem to like black, though, so maybe we should-"

"Stop!" Morgana exclaimed; her head was spinning. "Can't we sort out my clothes tomorrow?"

Gwen sighed and patiently said, "No, tomorrow we're visiting your father's grave; that'll take most of the day, so I'd hoped to start packing tonight." She nodded at the large wooden chest that had been carried in earlier.

Morgana had avoided looking at it all day. "Very well. I suppose we'd best get on with it." She stood up, leaving her food untouched, and began pulling out every gown she owned.

Three hours later, she and Gwen finished inspecting dresses - Morgana liked most of her gowns too much to part with them, and hoped very much that they would still be fashionable in her new home - and moved on to other things. Morgana quickly decided to keep all of her jewelry except for a necklace set with pink crystals that Arthur had given her for her twelfth birthday even though he knew she hated pink (in fact, she suspected that was the reason he had picked it out). Her hairbrush collection, on the other hand, underwent drastic reductions; she had no use for twenty-five hairbrushes, but they tended to accumulate since she received at least four on every birthday.

At last Gwen announced, "Well, I think we've done enough for tonight. Are you ready for bed?"

Morgana said that she was, so Gwen helped her undress, brushed her hair, poured her sleeping draft, and began putting out the lights. Staring down into the dark liquid she was about to drink, Morgana experienced a moment of panic - Gaius had been treating her for her nightmares for so long; how would she ever manage without him? - before a different fear, one that she had been suppressing all day, pushed its way to the forefront of her mind.

What if all her agonizing over leaving Camelot was for nothing? What if Merlin was killed defending his kingdom from the monsters that had invaded it? She had asked Geoffrey of Monmouth if any of his books mentioned wyverns, hoping that if she learned something about the creatures she might be able to picture how Merlin would fight them, only to be told that Uther had ordered the royal library purged of all references to magical beasts years ago. Denied solid information, she was left to guess at what characteristics a wyvern might possess.

Her experience with monsters was limited to a brief sighting of an afanc and a dream of a dragon, so her imagination lacked material from which to form a picture of a wyvern. Instead it presented her with images of Merlin's corpse - his pale skin going cold and taking on the grayish pallor of death, his beautiful eyes turning lifeless and empty as the soul behind them departed . . .

Morgana shuddered, almost spilling the sleeping draft which she still hadn't drunk, and suddenly realized she didn't mean to drink it. Perhaps, if she forewent the potion, she could see Merlin in her dreams as she had once seen Arthur. Of course, her dreams rarely showed her anything good . . .

_It is still better to _know_ than to be tormented by ignorance. _ Before she could think better of it Morgana poured the potion out under her bed and gave the empty cup to Gwen with a smile.

Gwen patted her on the back. "Sleep well, my lady."

"I'm sure I will." Morgana lay back against her pillows, closed her eyes, and concentrated on her fiancé, willing herself to sleep and dream of him. _Show me Prince Merlin. _ Morgana repeated this command to herself as she allowed her consciousness to slip away, and the dream unfolded immediately as if it had been inside her head all along, simply waiting for her waking mind to get out of the way.

The first thing she saw was Merlin; the rest of her dream slowly filled itself in around him. He was outside a huge white castle that glittered in the last rays of the setting sun, along with the knights of Dagon (minus the company that were still in Camelot) and his uncouth manservant. They all seemed to be waiting for something, and were growing anxious as the thing they were waiting for didn't happen.

"It's been hours," Will said in a low voice. "Don't you think he should be back by now . . . unless he's-"

"If you're bored you can leave, Will," Merlin snapped. He didn't care if Balinor was taking longer than expected to drive the wyverns away; he wasn't about to entertain the notion that harm might have befallen his father, even though the rebellious part of him was already making plans to find Gwaine and go looking for Balinor - never mind that the king had ordered all his men to stay where they were in case they needed to defend the townspeople from a stealth attack. Gwaine wasn't a knight, so Balinor's orders didn't apply to him, and as for Merlin . . . well, his father never got very angry with him.

A clatter of hooves on cobblestones cut Merlin's musings short as Balinor galloped in on his black warhorse. "The wyverns aren't happy about being chased out; they're going to join the rest of their flock and attack in force. Depending on the size of the flock, they may be a match for me even with my dragonlord's powers. We'll have to fight them. Get your weapons and saddle your horses, men! We regroup here in ten minutes."

Gwaine joined Merlin and Will as they hurried off to fetch Merlin's sword. "What are you doing here?" Merlin asked him.

"I'm coming with you, of course," Gwaine answered, his tone clearly conveying that he thought Merlin an idiot for having to ask. "Freya told me that you never require Will to go into battle with you because he isn't a knight-"

"Neither are _you_! I won't have my friends putting themselves in danger-"

It was Gwaine's turn to interrupt. "I wasn't asking for your permission, sire. Besides, since you left Sir Prancelot in Camelot, I figure someone has to be there to save your ass."

###

"Morgana. Morgana, it's time to get up."

Morgana's eyes snapped open and she glared daggers at the person shaking her, furious that her dream had been cut off at such a crucial moment, before realizing that Gwen could hardly have done it on purpose.

The maid backed away, a bit unsettled by her best friend's expression. "My lady? I'm sorry, but you really need to get up now. There's a lot to do today."

Morgana's anger ebbed as she was hit with a sudden, overpowering awareness that this would be her last day in Camelot - she was scheduled to leave for Dagon tomorrow at first light. For a moment this affected her so strongly that she felt herself quite incapable of movement.

"Morgana?" Gwen said worriedly. "Are you ill?"

"No, I'm fine." She forced herself to get up and act as though it were just another day; spending hours in bed brooding over the drastic changes in her life wouldn't help anything.

Going through the motions of her normal routine was easy until she went down to the courtyard and found Sir Lancelot and the knights from Dagon waiting for her instead of the ones that usually escorted her when she visited Gorlois' grave. Sir Lancelot gave a deep bow and explained, "Your king thought it would be a good idea for my men and I to accompany you today . . . to give us a chance to become better acquainted. Though I must confess I do not know where we're going . . ."

"That's all right. I can show you the way."

"Thank you my lady." Lancelot bowed again and helped Morgana mount her horse, then did the same for Gwen. Morgana decided that she liked his chivalrous manner - it reminded her of Sir Leon, who she had greatly admired as a little girl - and the fact that he extended the same courtesy to Gwen that he did to her, despite the difference in their stations.

_Or perhaps,_ she mused as they set off, _his treatment of Gwen is not motivated only by chivalry? _Could Lancelot be interested in her maid? A frown creased Morgana's brow as she considered this possibility. On the one hand, Gwen could use a good man in her life. On the other, when noblemen showed interest in serving girls their intentions were frequently less than honorable. Morgana resolved to keep an eye on them, and be ready to scare the knight away from her friend if necessary.

###

"My father's grave is just at the top of that hill," Morgana announced, pointing out the tall stone monument that marked Gorlois' final resting place. "I wish to go up there alone." She didn't feel that she could say a proper goodbye to her beloved father with all these strangers watching. To her annoyance, they all looked to Lancelot to decide whether they should obey her.

He surveyed the area and declared the hill a defensible location; his charge should be safe enough without that they stayed right with her. "We'll surround the base of the hill and keep watch, my lady. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call us."

"Thank you, but you needn't put yourself to such trouble for my protection." Morgana pulled her cloak back to show him the dagger that hung at her waist.

Lancelot was unimpressed. "It's our duty to see that you never have cause to use that." His dogmatic tone made it clear he would carry out his duty to his dying breath.

Morgana smiled, inwardly thanking every deity she had ever heard of that Merlin wasn't as stubbornly proper as his best knight. "Come, Gwen - our time is growing shorter."

On the hilltop, Gwen stood back a little while Morgana knelt by Gorlois' tombstone, recounted the events since the war's end up to the present and poured out her heart on every topic from her anger at Uther for using her as a pawn in his political maneuvering to her confused feelings for Merlin. "He seems to have a good heart, but everything I know about sorcerers tells me otherwise. Prince Merlin is still young, though - what if magic corrupts him when he's older? What if I fall in love and then have to watch him become a monster?" She pounded her fist on the ground in a sudden fit of frustration. "Or what if I never love him? He intrigues me because he is so different from every other suitor I've had, but suppose I am simply trying to force myself to feel more than I do, knowing that I have no choice but to marry him? Although Uther told me that you would have approved of this match, Papa, I believe he was sorely mistaken!"

After a while, when she ran out of things to say, she simply sat there and cried - for the father whose absence she still grieved over, for her childhood when she wasn't a king's ward and would never have been married off because Gorlois would have allowed her to choose her own husband, she was sure of it, and there were no mysteriously attractive sorcerer princes complicating her life . . . for the time when she had someone who loved her unconditionally, who cared for and protected her and demanded nothing in return.

Her best friend's hand fell gently on her back, a silent reminder that her father wasn't the only one ever to care for her. Gwen felt she had to do _something_ - Morgana only went to pieces like this after her worst nightmares, and even then she rarely cried. Seeing the tears she was usually so skilled at suppressing always worried Gwen.

Morgana sniffled. "Thank you for being here, Gwen. I don't know what I would do without you." She rose, brushed her fingertips over her father's tombstone one last time, and turned away, wiping away all traces of her tears - it wouldn't do to let the knights see her so vulnerable.

###

That night Morgana took her sleeping draft; she had a long journey ahead of her and needed rest, although she wouldn't put it past Uther to simply bundle her into a wagon along with the chest carrying all her worldly possessions if she was too out of sorts to ride in the morning. It felt like scarcely a moment passed between her lying down and Gwen shaking her awake, but it had been long enough that she felt refreshed.

Breakfast was a subdued, rushed affair and was interrupted twice, first by the servants who came to collect Morgana's belongings, and then by Gaius, who had brought enough sleeping potion to last Morgana through her journey as a parting gift. "I've also written down the recipes for the remedies that have helped you the most, so make sure you give them to Balinor's court physician."

"I will," Morgana assured him.

"And try not to let your dreams frighten you."

"I won't."

"And . . . take care of yourself, child."

Morgana impulsively pulled the old man into a hug. "Oh, Gaius, I am going to miss you! You've been such a good friend to me since my very first day in Camelot-" She broke off, feeling herself choke up and determined not to cry anymore.

Gaius, discomfited but pleased, gave her an awkward pat on the back. "There, there, my child."

The door opened and Arthur entered in his accustomed manner: unannounced and uninvited. "Morgana, are you decent? I- Whoa!" He stopped cold, eyes widening at the sight of his sister embracing the elderly physician. "What are you doing? You're engaged to another man, and Gaius is old enough to be your grandfather!"

Morgana laughed and released Gaius. "Oh hush, Arthur, I was merely bidding farewell to an old friend."

Arthur didn't answer; he still looked mildly disgusted.

"What did you come in here for, sire?" Gwen asked, hoping to diffuse the tension before a fight broke out between Arthur and Morgana.

Arthur shook himself. "I came to tell you girls that it's time we were on our way. The entire court is waiting to see us off."

A lead weight settled in Morgana's stomach. "Very well." She cast a last look around the chambers where she had lived for the last eight years, but they were rather bare and impersonal now, having been stripped of her effects last night. _It's almost as if I was never here._ Then she followed Arthur out, shutting the door of her private sanctuary behind her for the last time.

In the courtyard Morgana found her escort already mounted and waiting for her. Cedric stood with them, holding the bridles of hers and Arthur's horses, while a stable hand held onto his horse and Gwen's. _Of course, Arthur can't go anywhere without his odious lapdog. _ Uther was also there, along with all of his knights and every noble in the castle, many of whom looked as though they'd rather still be sleeping than standing out here, watching the departure of a girl most of them hardly knew or cared about, except that her position as the king's ward had made her the most powerful woman in Camelot.

"Morgana!" Uther smiled broadly and embraced her, but Morgana felt hardly any of the warmth she had experienced while hugging Gaius. She wondered if Uther was only putting on a show of affection for the benefit of his courtiers. "I wish you well, my child. My years with you in my care have been a true blessing to me."

"Thank you, my lord." She kissed his cheek, partly because it was expected of her and partly because this was the most genuine sentiment she had heard from her guardian in a long while. "You will attend my wedding, won't you?"

"I wouldn't miss it for anything." Uther personally helped Morgana mount her horse, said a few words to Arthur, then stood back and watched as they moved into position at the head of their party and set off.

Several people came out to wave and call out their good wishes to Morgana as they passed through the town; she had always tried to be a friend to the people of Camelot and was touched to see their fondness for her. "You're quite popular this morning," Arthur commented.

"I suppose I'd best enjoy it while it lasts," Morgana replied, thinking of Merlin's servant Will and wondering what reception awaited her in Dagon.

Once they left the main city of Camelot and entered the open countryside the knights rearranged themselves, forming a protective human barrier around Morgana, Gwen, and the wagon loaded with everyone's things, many of which were valuable enough to tempt thieves. Arthur was allowed to ride in front with Lancelot, much to Morgana's annoyance. "I've beaten Arthur at swordfighting countless times," she complained to Gwen, "yet these fools think I need protecting more than him!"

"Well, you'll soon teach them better."

"Yes, I suspect I'll have to."

Half a mile down the road, Morgana, Arthur, and Gwen paused on a hilltop to look back at the citadel of Camelot. "Hard to believe it could be weeks, even months, before we see it again, isn't it?" Arthur said quietly.

"You need only remain in Dagon until my wedding, and Gwen can return to Camelot any time she wants," Morgana reminded him. Gwen frowned at her as if to say, _You_ know_ I'm not leaving you._ "I'll be staying a bit longer."

"You'll visit though, won't you?" Arthur demanded.

"Not right away; I expect I'll have to spend some time solidifying my position as princess of Dagon before I can leave to visit my old home. But yes, I'll come when I'm able."

"Oh, good. I can't imagine who's going to aggravate me out of my mind if you're not around." Arthur turned his horse around and trotted onward to catch up with Lancelot.

Morgana stayed where she was a moment longer, gazing back on her former home and reflecting that even if she did return later it would be as a visiting foreign dignitary, not as a citizen of Camelot. She wouldn't belong there. At last Gwen said, "We should go, my lady - we're holding everyone up."

"You're right, of course." Morgana forced a smile for her friend, cast a last longing glance back at the place she would never call home again, then turned away and rode forward into the unknown.

**Next chapter will have more Merlin, and Morgana discovering that road trips can be unpleasant when there's no place to bathe and you have to wear the same clothes for days on end. **


	17. The Journey

"Merlin, look out!" He looked up from where he'd knelt to retrieve his sword from the carcass of a dead wyvern just in time to see one of its flock-mates bearing down on him. Gwaine shouldered him out of the way, slid between the beast's forelegs, and plunged his blade upward into its belly. The wyvern screamed in fury and pain as Gwaine withdrew his sword and rolled out of the way. A split second later it collapsed, right where he had been.

"Fifth one I've killed tonight," Gwaine remarked, wiping his sword on the grass and seeming totally unconcerned by having narrowly escaped a wyvern falling on him. "And you've got . . . how many, Merlin? Three? Four? Looks like you'll be buying the drinks after this battle's over."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Gwaine, we've chased the flock so far from town that-" he paused to cast a spell at another incoming wyvern "-_Conglacior!_ - that there's no tavern around for miles."

"I know that! But if you can turn a wyvern to ice with a single word, can't you conjure up some mead?"

"Maybe I could, but that's not what magic is for. _Frangere._" The frozen wyvern shattered, showering Merlin and Gwaine with ice shards and gore. They put their hands up to shield their faces, which was fortunate; the creature's blood hissed and steamed as it struck their chainmail. Neither liked to think what it could have done to their skin.

No new assailant moved in after that; in fact, the wyverns seemed to have had enough for the night. They flew away, leaving behind the echoes of their angry shrieks and the bodies of the fallen. Merlin scurried off to tend the wounded, while Gwaine joined the party responsible for gathering the dead. In the morning servants would arrive with a cart to transport them back to the citadel for burial.

An hour later, when the dead and injured had been seen to, all those who were still standing gathered to hear what Balinor had to say about the day's efforts. "You fought bravely, men, as you have for the last seven days, and your efforts have not been in vain. The wyverns' numbers are less than half of what they were when they first attacked us!" This announcement was met by cheers from the king's warriors. Balinor waited until they quieted down before continuing, "Now we have a decision to make. I've forced one of them to reveal the location of their nesting ground, which is barely half a league from here. If we press on, we can destroy this flock at its source, ensuring that they will never beset us again. If not, I feel certain their ranks are nonetheless too depleted to continue their offensive against our people; therefore I will not order you to keep fighting if you wish not to. What say you?"

"Kill them!" one of the knights roared, and others took up the cry, shouting, "Kill them all!" and "Destroy them! Take vengeance for everyone the monsters have killed and devoured!"

Gwaine glanced at Merlin, who stood next to him, shrugged, and said, "Hell, it's the most action I've seen since coming to Dagon. Why not?" Merlin's only answer was a halfhearted shrug. "What? You can't seriously have a problem killing those creatures!"

"I never _enjoy_ killing anything," the prince said sharply. "Still, I can't say it's not justified this time, and I think the knights need to take revenge for the people they weren't able to save. Father always told me that a good ruler looks to the needs of his people before his personal desires."

Gwaine was surprised to hear that, as it had always been his opinion that royals were only good for sitting around and being waited on, but considering that the king in question happened to be Merlin's father, he wisely held his tongue. Merlin sat down (waiting until after the king had seated himself, of course) and peeled off his battle gauntlets; as he did so, Gwaine spied some red fabric tied to his wrist which had previously been hidden under his armor. "What's this?"

"Nothing." Merlin seemed slightly embarrassed, convincing Gwaine that the matter required further investigation.

He seized Merlin's wrist and pulled his arm out in front of him so as to get a better look at his friend's new accessory. "Hmm . . . expensive silk with a subtle floral scent. Either you've taken to wearing perfume-"

"Of course I haven't!" Merlin protested, trying vainly to free himself from Gwaine's grasp.

"-Or this is some lady's favor. Let's see, Pendragon crest, and there's an 'M' embroidered in the corner - it must be from the Lady Morgana of Camelot. Why do you have this?"

"According to her maid, it's because she hoped I would think of her until we met again."

This came as something of a shock to Gwaine, who had thought the engagement was purely political - but could it be more? He hoped so for Merlin's sake; loveless marriage was a fate he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. "And do you think of her?"

Merlin gauged his friend's attitude carefully before answering. Unlike Will, Gwaine didn't sound accusing, merely curious. "I do. The Lady Morgana is . . . not like the courtiers at home."

"And you don't like the noblewomen of your father's court, which must mean that you _do_ like _her_." Gwaine grinned. "So Will's theories about her being Uther Pendragon's puppet or spy are rubbish, eh?"

"She's definitely no one's puppet, and she's afraid of magic - she wouldn't dare spy on us." Merlin actually had no idea whether this was true - remembering his midnight encounter with Morgana, when she told him she was trying not to be frightened of him, he thought she might be brave enough to spy on them in spite of her fear - but he had another reason for doubting she had any nefarious purpose.

If she turned out to be a spy she would have to be executed, and that would be a huge obstacle to Merlin's supposed 'destiny' to unite Albion alongside Arthur Pendragon; Merlin had no sister, but if he did, he knew any man who killed her would certainly _not_ be his closest ally and assumed the same was true for Arthur. _You would think that when the dragons told me all about my destiny, they could've mentioned how the Lady Morgana fits in._ He rolled onto his side, inwardly cursing those damnably secretive overgrown lizards and trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep - not an easy task when one was wearing armor and lying on hard-packed dirt.

###

It was all over before noon the next day. By riding at a hard gallop they had reached the nesting ground in less than an hour and discovered that it was actually an extensive labyrinth of caves running through the base of a mountain, which worked in their favor; the sorcerers in the group caused the caves to collapse, crushing the young wyverns and any adults that might have been with them under several tons of rock, ending the fight without further bloodshed on their side. The entire company cheered.

"Well done, men!" Balinor called over their shouting. "Now turn these horses around - let's go home and celebrate our victory!" This order was received with more cheers.

As the army executed an about-face and regrouped, Merlin urged his horse up beside Balinor's. _Now what's he doing?_ Gwaine wondered. He clucked to his horse. "Come on boy, let's see what fresh mischief Merlin's getting himself into."

He moved closer just in time to hear Merlin ask, "Father, if you have no further need of me, would it be all right if I joined Sir Lancelot and his company? To ensure that they reach home safely?"

"I'm sure they can manage without you, but if that's what you want to do and if you can find them, I won't stop you."

"Thank you, Father." Merlin separated from the group and slipped away without anyone noticing - or so he thought.

"Tell me," a loud, familiar voice demanded, "is this sudden desire to join Sir Prancelot down to you missing your comrade-in-arms, or because he happens to be traveling with your fiancée?"

"His name is _Lancelot_," Merlin corrected, "and what if I do want to see the Lady Morgana again? Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Gwaine admitted that there was not. "I just want you to know I'm missing free drinks for you."

"You don't have to come with me."

"Ha! You wouldn't let me ride off on my own, would you?"

"Of course not - you can't keep yourself out of trouble."

"Neither can you," Gwaine pointed out, to Merlin's annoyance. "So how are we going to find Sir Prance-" Merlin glared. "All right, Sir _Lancelot_?"

"As you said, he's traveling with my fiancée, and I just happen to have something of hers. The books recommend that you use a bit of the actual person for this spell, like hair or fingernail clippings, but it should work just as well with a personal belonging as the focal point." Gwaine, who had no clue what Merlin was babbling about, just nodded. _"Ostende mihi viam qui habet hanc!" _

As time and space bent around them, Gwaine thought that keeping company with Merlin just might be interesting enough to make it worth missing a trip to the tavern.

###

Morgana had just completed the most awkward, uncomfortable, embarrassing bath of her life. They had reached the river two hours ago, and as she hadn't had enough water or a place to bathe properly in a week (actually, when she counted she realized that today made it one day _more_ than a week) she insisted that they stop and allow her to wash herself. The current was too strong for her to safely go into the river, so she was obliged to strip and stand naked on the riverbank while Gwen poured the icy water over her and Lancelot stood a few feet away (with his back turned, of course), ready to spring into action should one of them fall in.

"There," Gwen said at last, after emptying the fourth bucketful of river water over Morgana's head. "I'm afraid that's the best we can do with no soap."

"Th-that's qu-quite all r-right," Morgana replied through chattering teeth. "I d-do feel better."

"Let's get you dressed before you catch cold."

Morgana nodded her fervent agreement and slipped quickly into her shift, dress, and over-gown. As Gwen fiddled with the dress's fastenings Morgana called out, "Sir Lancelot, how long do you believe it will take us to reach Dagon?"

"If we follow this river to the border we should get there in three days, perhaps less if we ride hard. Once we cross the border it should take another week to reach the capital city by the most direct route, again depending on our speed, my lady."

Morgana sighed - the prospect of at least another ten days in the saddle was not an inviting one.

"If it pleases you, my lady, I told the men we would take a quarter hour's rest here, and Prince Arthur agreed."

"Very well." _Of course Arthur agreed; all this riding must be wearing on his backside as well, not that he'll ever admit it. And these are not his men - if he disagreed with Sir Lancelot, perhaps they wouldn't listen to him. I wonder how much it annoys him, having someone else in charge?_ "Gwen, why don't you take some water to the knights, so they can all have a cool drink?"

"Yes, my lady." Gwen filled her bucket again and, just as Morgana had predicted, Lancelot helped her carry it, giving the lady a much-needed moment of privacy.

She sat down on the riverbank so that she couldn't be seen over the shrubbery that formed something of a dividing wall between her and the knights and wondered if there would always be people hovering around her like a cloud of flies after she married Merlin and became a princess. _Ah, the disadvantages of improving one's station. But now we are out in the open, and these men have been tasked with my protection; I'm sure I can manage a few hours alone when I have an entire castle to hide in . . . _

A pair of men and their horses suddenly materialized on either side of her. Morgana scrambled to her feet with a cry of alarm, punched the first man in the jaw, then slammed her knee into his groin. As he doubled over in agony, she bashed him on the side of his head with a multicolored river rock she had picked up to admire. He went down in a heap. She threw the rock aside, drew her dagger, spun to face her second attacker - and the dagger flew out of her hand into his. That was the moment Morgana knew she was done for.

Her breath came in gasps as she stared into his glowing eyes, awaiting her fate with all the dignity she could muster . . . until the gold faded to blue and she thought, _I know those eyes . . . _ When he smiled and said, "Hello again, Lady Morgana," her uncertainty vanished.

"Merlin," she said sharply, forgetting in her anger to address him properly. "You-I-_What is wrong with you?_"

Merlin's gaze darted from Morgana's furious expression to the unconscious form of Gwaine. "Are you going to hit me too?"

"I should!" Morgana fumed. "You'd deserve it! I shan't, though."

"Thank you, my lady. Look, I'm sorry, I didn't think the spell would bring us so close-"

"I don't want to hear about your stupid spell!" Morgana yelled. "Must you really use magic for every little thing?"

Merlin's smile disappeared completely. _She's more like Uther than I realized. I should have known better than to think that anyone from Camelot, anyone raised by _him_, could accept this part of me._ "Here, have this back." He stiffly offered her dagger to her.

She took it as graciously as possible while inwardly railing at the shame his hurt look evoked in her. _Perhaps I should not have shouted, but what am I supposed to do? Watch passively as he destroys his soul with magic? Not even _try_ to save him?_ That was something her sense of altruism simply wouldn't allow.

The instant her dagger was out of his hands, Merlin brushed past her and knelt to examine Gwaine.

"Is he . . . dead?" Morgana asked hesitantly. Though she had genuinely believed he was there to attack her, now that she knew that wasn't the case she would feel horrible if she had killed him.

"No, he's breathing, but his head's bleeding and there's a soft spot on his skull where your stone struck him; he has a concussion. I'll need magic to heal him - unless saving someone's life bothers you, my lady."

Morgana flinched at his cold tone. "No . . . Help your friend, by all means."

Merlin held his hand over Gwaine's head wound, fingers splayed, and whispered, _"Sana."_

The crack in Gwaine's skull mended, the blood stopped flowing. He opened his eyes, looked up to see Merlin kneeling over him and the beautiful girl who had concussed him standing a little way off, and said, "I should've just gone to the tavern."

Believing she had inflicted serious mental damage on her fiancé's friend, Morgana was horrified, but Merlin only laughed. "It's good to see you're still yourself after the knock your head took."

Just then Arthur and Lancelot crashed through the bushes, swords drawn. "Morgana, are you all right? I thought I heard you screaming." Arthur began to berate her for wandering away from the group, then noticed Merlin. "And why is he here?"

"It's nothing, Arthur," Morgana sighed. "Just a small misunderstanding."

**So Morgana's attitude toward magic has put a crimp in her relationship with Merlin. Just so you know, magic will continue to be an issue between them for a while, possibly a long while, but will be sorted out eventually. **

**Question: do I make Gwaine too obsessed with hanging out in taverns? It seems in-character for him, but I don't want to turn the man into TSB's standing joke. I'm gonna try to do a little character development with him and various other secondary characters, but how much I'll end up with is questionable since my main interest is Mergana. **


	18. The Arrival

**Good news: I've FINALLY written Morgana's long-awaited arrival in Dagon! I know, I know, it's about damn time. Thank you all for your patience and for not killing me. **

Following their tiff over what she considered his overuse of magic, Merlin passed the rest of the day without speaking another word to Morgana, but she wasn't bothered; in fact, she barely noticed his silence. Now that she had decided she wasn't going to sit by and watch as Merlin's magic corrupted him, her mind was fully occupied with the question of how to rehabilitate a warlock, leaving little room for anything else. Thanks to her guardian she knew of several ways to destroy a sorcerer's powers, none of which were applicable in this particular instance; Uther's favored methods, immolation and decapitation, while highly effective, would also have the unfortunate side effect of ending Merlin's life.

As she lay awake in her tent that night, unwilling to take her sleeping draft and allow herself to rest until she had come up with some answer to the problem that was Merlin, she concluded that she needed more information before she could attempt to singlehandedly 'cure' him - Gaius always said that a disease must be understood before it could be remedied. The royal library of Dagon should suit her requirements perfectly. Until she was able to conduct the necessary research, she resolved to subtly discourage her fiancé from practicing magic whenever possible.

Pursuing this course of action demanded that she get back in his good graces, so she applied herself vigorously to being charming and conciliatory, and by the time their party reached the border between Camelot and Dagon he seemed to have forgotten their argument.

"Here we are," he announced, stopping his horse at an apparently random spot on the riverbank. "This is where we cross over."

"You mean we're fording the river here? Is there not a bridge?"

"There is, my lady," Lancelot replied, "but crossing there would add miles to our journey. This is the shortest path to the capital. I was under the impression you wanted to get there as soon as possible."

"She does; she just doesn't want to go in the water," Arthur said, raising his voice so everyone could hear. "Don't be scared, Morgana - if you fall off your horse, I'm sure _someone_ will rescue you."

"And if _you_ fall off no one will trouble themselves over it," she retorted. "Anyway, it's Justinia who dislikes water, not me."

"Oh right, blame it on your horse."

Morgana urged her mount forward; the mare balked at the water's edge, throwing up her head and snorting. "You see?"

Seeing that she was stuck, Merlin moved his own horse closer. "Give me your reins."

"What?"

"I can get her to go in."

Morgana doubted that - her favorite horse was stubborn, just like her - but saw no harm in letting him try, so she handed her reins over, taking hold of her saddle's pommel instead. "I'll place myself in your capable hands, then, my lord." A smile and slight fluttering of her eyelashes transformed the simple statement into a double entendre, but her effort was wasted; Merlin seemed entirely focused on coaxing Justinia forward and, to Morgana's amazement, the mare was responding. Because the subtle mentalism he used to influence her wasn't accompanied by a telltale flash of gold in his eyes, Morgana never realized he was using magic right under her nose.

Neither did Gwen. "That was very . . . impressive," she said when Merlin and Morgana joined her on the opposite riverbank, tripping slightly over the words. Despite Morgana's assurances that Merlin didn't bite, she still wasn't completely at ease with the sorcerer. "Normally Morgana's the only one who can handle that horse - how'd you make her so docile?"

"I just told her the river was nothing to be afraid of." Merlin then cast a spell to dry Gwen's and Morgana's clothes, and this time the magic was so obvious neither of them could miss it. "Now that we're in my father's kingdom you're my guests, so it's my job to see that your stay here is as pleasant as possible. Welcome to Dagon."

"Oy!" Gwaine called out indignantly. "How come you never do anything like that for me? I'm your friend! And he-" he jerked his thumb at Arthur "-is your guest too. Or do you only offer magical assistance to pretty women?"

"Mmm . . . yeah, that sounds about right."

Gwaine snickered and punched Arthur lightly on the arm. "Sorry princess, looks like you and I aren't pretty enough for him." Arthur just looked as though he found this entire line of conversation totally inappropriate.

His discomfiture wasn't helped when Merlin mercilessly continued the teasing. "Don't take it personally; I've never really fancied blondes. As for you, Gwaine . . . well . . ."

Gwaine pulled an apple out of his saddlebag and threw it at Merlin's head. Merlin dodged it, but barely, after which he decided to put some distance between himself and his friend. He rode off toward the forefront of their group, and Morgana followed. Not wanting to remain in the company of the too-serious Pendragon without Merlin, Gwaine allowed his horse to stop and graze for a moment, leaving Arthur with Gwen.

"Can you believe them?" Arthur exploded once he was sure Merlin and Gwaine couldn't hear him. "_Completely_ impertinent! Do you know what Father would do to me if I ever spoke to a guest in Camelot like that?"

"I've an idea; Morgana's told me how strict King Uther can be, and I suppose he's harder on you than on her, you being his son and all."

"Exactly-"

"But it appears that Merlin's upbringing hasn't been the same as yours, sire."

"Clearly - it's been far too lax by the looks of it!"

Arthur's tone of voice and outraged expression radiated disapproval, yet Gwen couldn't help thinking that Merlin's childhood, however undisciplined it might have been, must have been happier than Arthur's. At least Merlin knew how to have a little fun. "Well, sire, we knew certain things in Dagon wouldn't be the same as in Camelot, and the behavior they expect from their prince must be one of those things. I wouldn't say that makes them wrong, though. Just different."

###

"That was marvelous," Morgana told Merlin as the two of them trotted ahead of everyone else. "I've never seen Arthur get so riled at anyone besides me; I can tell you'll make a valuable ally."

"What, in your campaign to annoy Arthur?"

"Exactly - it's good for him. Arthur's used to everyone bowing and scraping simply because of who his father is, so once in a while I like to remind him that he's only human like the rest of us."

"Quite a task for one girl."

"Well, now I have you, don't I?"

"You have me," Merlin agreed.

Morgana flashed a quick smile at him, pleased to have someone new to aid her in her quest to make Arthur less of a prat; Gwen was too shy to be any real help, so Morgana was left to put Arthur in his place on her own, and sometimes she felt she was fighting a losing battle. In the years they had known one another, her foster brother had only grown more arrogant and pigheaded.

Her other self-appointed task wasn't going too well either - today she had finally failed to stop Merlin doing magic, which she now realized had to happen sooner or later. She could not, after all, keep her eyes on him every hour of every day. _I really must get into Balinor's library . . ._

"You look unhappy."

"I'm not. I was just thinking about . . . things." Morgana forced another smile, but Merlin wasn't fooled.

"So your mood has nothing to do with the spell I used at the river . . . or your not stopping it?"

Morgana's eyes widened in panic as she realized she'd been caught. The question was, now that Merlin knew what she had been doing, what would he do to her?

"At first I thought it was just coincidence that every time I was about to use magic for anything you'd find some way of distracting me, but it didn't take long to figure out that you were doing it on purpose - and I think I know why."

Rather than look at him while he spoke to her, as was polite, Morgana stared fixedly between her mare's ears, her gaze slowly intensifying into a smoldering glare. Here was another person in addition to Gwen who read her far too easily, except that unlike her best friend, Merlin hadn't known her for years. Being so transparent to someone she had only met a couple of _weeks_ ago bothered her. At his last words, however, she turned a disbelieving look his way. If he knew why she wanted him not to use magic, and he didn't sound angry about it . . . then was it possible he understood? Might he even appreciate her efforts at helping him? "Do you really, my lord? Please, enlighten me."

"You don't want to marry a sorcerer, so you're trying to make me not be one anymore." There was no hint of anger in Merlin's voice or face as he said this; he was simply stating what he believed to be the facts. "And I'd advise you to give it up." He sounded a touch colder now.

"If you think I ever give up when I'm told to," Morgana said boldly, "then you don't know me very well, my lord."

Uther would have been enraged by her defiance; Merlin only smiled, a little sadly, she thought. "No, I don't, but I do know that you'll never change what I am, my lady. If you insist on trying . . ."

Apprehension made Morgana's breath catch in her throat; was this to be the moment when he finally showed the cruelty that she had been taught lurked in the hearts of all sorcerers? Would he yell at her as Uther sometimes did, when she pushed her guardian past the limits of his patience? Threaten her? Put a curse on her?

". . . Then I hope you enjoy disappointment."

What could she say to that? It was clear he saw nothing wrong with being the way he was and had no intention of changing - wouldn't make it easy for her to change him either. Or, since his comprehension of the nature of magic was so much better than hers, perhaps he was simply telling her that sorcery was impossible to give up once one began practicing it, that there was no redeeming someone like him. Perhaps that was why Uther had always insisted that death was the only sentence for people who used magic.

Morgana pressed her heel into Justinia's side, signaling her to speed up as if she could shake off the weight of depression that was beginning to settle over her by moving faster. Merlin didn't attempt to keep pace with her, but she heard the thunder of his stallion's hooves not far behind her; he wasn't going to let her charge off into unfamiliar territory alone, and his presence at her back was almost comforting. Surely she couldn't get that feeling from someone evil . . . could she?

###

Travelling deeper into Dagon, they passed through a few villages, where Arthur and Morgana were the recipients of curious stares and hushed whispers from the inhabitants. "They aren't pleased we're here, are they?" she fretted one night after having this behavior directed at her for the fourth time, this time by an old woman and her grandson who lived in a small cottage in the countryside. "They still have hard feelings toward Camelot because of the war, and because Arthur and I are from Camelot they will have passed those feelings onto us."

"They're not sure what to make of you being here, actually," Merlin told her. "They wondered why Uther would send his ward on a diplomatic mission."

"Since when do you care so much what a bunch of peasants think, anyway?" Arthur asked.

"The fact that they're my future subjects may have something to do with it," came Morgana's tart reply.

"Good point." He lifted a spoonful of beans and let it drip back into his bowl with a morose-sounding _plop_.

Morgana grinned. "Tired of beans, Arthur?"

"As beans seem to be the main staple of our provisions, yes, I am! Wish I'd brought my bow and arrows; then maybe I could catch something for meat."

"I understand - right now I almost feel I could happily murder my firstborn for a hot bath."

"If you knew my firstborn," one of the knights muttered, "you'd murder him for much less."

"Well, we should arrive in the capital sometime tomorrow," Merlin told them. "I've sent Father a message telling him to expect us."

"Maybe there'll be a feast," someone said hopefully.

Arthur perked up at the mention of a feast. "I hope so. What does your cook typically serve when you're welcoming royal guests?"

Merlin smiled in a way that could only be called wicked. "Beans."

###

The capital city of Dagon was, somewhat to Morgana's surprise, a lot like the one in Camelot. There was a residential area in the lower town, a market featuring most of the same businesses that could be found in Camelot's market, and countless people going about their daily routines. If most or all of them had magic, one couldn't tell just to look at them. Seeing that she was drawing yet more curious stares, Morgana straightened her spine and pasted on the smile she had learned at the age of four to give at public appearances (sincere and friendly but still regal and reserved, and open enough to show off her perfect teeth), wishing that she had been able to wash her hair or had at least changed her clothes. She'd just hated the idea of putting a clean dress on over dirty skin.

She experienced a short moment of relief when they finally got into the palace courtyard, away from all the gawking townspeople - until she saw Balinor waiting at the main entrance. She had really hoped she'd be able to freshen up before meeting her future father-in-law again.

"Merlin! It's good to have you back. I trust the journey went well?"

"Fine, Father."

"Uneventful, sire," Lancelot added.

"Good, good. Prince Arthur, Lady Morgana, it's a pleasure to see you again. I've had chambers prepared for you, and if you require anyone from the castle staff-"

"That won't be necessary, thank you. Morgana and I brought our own personal servants from Camelot. It would be helpful if someone could show us around, though."

"Of course. Clarence, Freya-" a pair of servants appeared, ready to do their king's bidding "-show our guests to their rooms, will you? Merlin, Will is waiting for you in your chambers, unless you've something else you'd like to do with yourself until the welcoming feast tonight."

"No, Father, I haven't." He turned and gave Morgana a brief nod. "Well . . . see you tonight, I suppose. Anything you want or need, just ask and Freya will see that you get it. Won't you, Freya?"

The brunette maidservant Balinor had designated as Morgana's guide to the royal palace of Dagon nodded. "Of course I will, sire." She and Merlin smiled at one another, and he clapped her gently on the shoulder as he passed.

Morgana hardly knew what to make of that. She had observed Merlin being friendly with Will, allowing him a degree of familiarity most nobles wouldn't permit anyone beneath them socially; perhaps this was simply his usual behavior with his servants? After all, not all princes had to be arrogant prats like Arthur.

_It should please me that he is not . . . but all the same, he might do better not to extend his friendliness so freely to serving girls. Especially not moderately attractive ones. _ It was true; Freya, while clad in a simple, understated brown and dull red garb, did have a certain natural beauty about her. _Given better clothes, a little cosmetic to enhance her looks, and some attention to that tangled hair . . . why, I do believe she would be quite the head-turner, and Merlin's indifference to personal grooming suggests that he doesn't set much store by appearances anyway. I may need to keep my eyes on this one. _

###

Freya led Morgana and Gwen to a suite of chambers comprising what was to be Morgana's bedroom, her washroom, and a small adjacent room for her maid. Morgana was grateful for that particular feature; if her chambers hadn't included maid's quarters she probably wouldn't have asked for ones that did, but she would have hated not being able to keep Gwen close by in case she had a nightmare.

"I took the liberty of drawing water for you to bathe, my lady," Freya said; Morgana nearly kissed her. "Will you be wanting it?"

"Yes, I certainly will; please prepare my bath at once. Gwen, help me undress?"

"How would you like the water, my lady?"

"Hot as you can make it without scalding," Morgana answered distractedly, undoing her braid while Gwen untied her sash.

Freya curtsied and stepped into the washroom. Because its entrance was concealed behind the changing screen, the castle's builders hadn't seen fit to add a door separating it and the bedroom, so Freya could easily be heard murmuring, _"Aqua calido."_

Morgana's eyes widened; her new maid was a witch! Gwen squeezed her arm in what was meant to be a steadying grip, but thanks to her own alarm she was cutting off Morgana's circulation. "Gwen," Morgana whispered, "you're going to bruise me!"

"Oh . . ." She purposefully let go and stepped back. "I'm sorry, Morgana."

Just then, Freya reentered the bedroom. "Will you be needing help with your bath?"

"Gwen and I will manage, thank you, but I'll need you to help me get ready for the feast later."

"Yes, my lady." Freya curtsied again and left.

"I hope you don't mind that I asked her to come back," Morgana said to Gwen as she stripped off her underclothes. "I have my reasons, none of which have anything to do with wanting a different maid."

"You can tell me all about it after we get you into the tub. But tell me, does it not bother you that she is a witch?"

"It does seem strange, someone with magical powers working as a servant." Morgana shrugged and dipped a toe into her bathwater. "At least she got my bath to the proper temperature, though. Magic may have its uses after all."

"Don't let Uther hear you saying that."

Morgana sank into her wonderfully warm bath, barely suppressing a moan of pleasure as the hot water lapped over her aching body, relaxing muscles that had been strained by days on horseback. Holding her breath, she submerged herself fully to wash her face, then let Gwen do her hair. As her friend's fingers massaged her scalp and combed through the long, wet strands cascading down her back, she explained why she had decided to keep Freya close, at least for the time being.

"Oh my - you're jealous, aren't you?" Gwen gave an incredulous little laugh. "I hardly think you need to be."

"You're probably right. So what if he smiled at her? Merlin smiles at a lot of people." _But not all of them are pretty girls,_ Morgana's inner voice whispered slyly. She silently told it to shut up and leaned back against the side of the tub, determined to enjoy a few more minutes of soaking until Gwen insisted that she get out before she began to resemble a prune. Then she stood up, dried off with the towel Gwen handed her, and wrapped herself in a loose, comfortable robe. "Shall I help you bathe now, Gwen?"

"No thank you, I'm used to doing it on my own. You should get some rest before the feast - try out your new bed."

Morgana took a moment to examine it before testing: carved headboard and frame made of a lighter wood than her old bed in Camelot, white curtains and sheets, plenty of pillows. _Lovely._ When she sat on it, it also proved to be extremely comfortable. _I can sleep here . . . as well as I'm ever able to sleep anywhere. _ She curled up atop the covers and let the warm rays of afternoon sun shining in through the window lull her into a light sleep.

**Next up, Morgana meets Balinor's court, so warnings for some OCs appearing - I personally don't like OCs very much but I don't know if they bother you guys - and either she'll start researching how to 'cure' Merlin or the wedding planning will commence, or maybe both. **

**Other news: one of my other stories is starting to wrap up, at last. **

**Bad news: this makes it my #1 priority at the moment and both of my other fics, while not on hiatus, are sort of on the back burner. **

**Good news: once Revenant is over I won't be taking up any new long-term projects for a while, so TSB will have half of my attention instead of only a third. **


	19. One of Those Girls

**Jessie237 and fullhans1: Thank you much!**

**Samwise O'Keefe: Good to know you're not expecting too much too fast, because Arthur's transformation from a prat to someone you can actually stand to have a whole conversation with will be kind of a long process. **

**Warning: unlikable OC ahead.**

Freya returned to her new mistress's chambers at half-past six, as per the lady's instructions. "My lady? I've come to help you prepare for tonight, as you ordered."

Morgana smiled. "Excellent. I've already chosen my dress, and Gwen has spent the last ten minutes trying to talk me into something more conservative. I don't know why she wastes her time so."

"Nor do I," the dark-skinned maid muttered.

Morgana retrieved her favorite red dress from where it was hung over the changing screen and held it up to herself for Freya's inspection. "What do you think? Will this do, or is it too much?"

"Representatives of every noble family in Dagon will be there, and the king plans to announce your engagement - you'll want to put your best foot forward."

"So there," Morgana said triumphantly to Gwen.

The next hour was spent making Morgana look her very best. Selecting the perfect jewelry, perfume, and shades of makeup was relatively easy, but her hair was redone three times before they found a style that pleased her. At last she settled on pulling it all to one side, where it was secured with an oval-shaped clasp of ruby and gold. Gwen arranged a loose curl so that it framed Morgana's face, made a final adjustment to the way the rest of her hair lay over her shoulder, then moved away so Morgana could step back for a good look at herself in the mirror and pass judgment on the final result of her maids' efforts.

She scrutinized herself ruthlessly, searching for any tiny flaw. She always tried to be mindful of how she looked, but tonight it was especially important; tonight she would be presented to all the nobility of Dagon as the intended wife of their future ruler. Tonight she had to be perfect.

"You look beautiful," Freya assured her. "You'll be the most stunning woman in King Balinor's hall tonight."

Morgana flashed her a grateful smile - unlike her, Freya had probably seen all the other women who would be at the feast, and it was a small relief to know she wouldn't be upstaged. She had grown accustomed to being the most attractive female in any room she entered, and she was just vain enough that she wanted to keep that distinction. "Thank you. Now you will show me to the banquet hall, please."

"That would hardly be appropriate. I can show you around the castle when it's just the two of us and Gwen, but it wouldn't be proper in front of the court. Someone will be sent to escort you."

"No one has asked to be my escort," Morgana said with a slight frown.

"Then the king can assign someone, probably a knight. He doesn't usually bother about who goes to feasts with whom, but since you're his honored guest he'll see that you're taken care of. That's why he put me and Clarence at yours and Prince Arthur's disposal for as long as you want us."

A knock on the door sounded and Freya went to answer it. "My lord! I didn't expect you - especially not on time."

"I'm not _always_ late," Merlin's voice replied indignantly. Morgana, who had been deliberately hanging back, out of sight if one stood at the door - she didn't like the idea of the king dictating who took her to court functions, and had meant to show her lack of enthusiasm for her compulsory escort - reacted as if she had been jabbed in the backside with one of her sewing needles. Then she hastened to her chambers' main entrance, Freya sidestepping out of her way.

Merlin stood there in his finest clothes - satiny black shirt, crown, and a long, flowing cape - and gave her a slightly nervous smile. "I'm to take you downstairs, if that's all right. If not, I can just tell you where to go."

"I don't mind going with you," Morgana said quickly.

"Great! Follow me." He led her to the end of the corridor outside her chambers, down a short staircase, through a twisting, dimly lit hallway, and down more stairs; she made sure never to fall more than half a step behind him, because it seemed to her that she could easily become hopelessly lost if they were separated.

They passed a few servants in the corridors, but unlike the townsfolk they showed little interest in the stranger accompanying their prince. Morgana supposed they must be used to seeing guests come and go in the castle. She also observed that while Merlin returned their respectful nods, he didn't smile at any of them the way he had at Freya, and he certainly didn't touch them; apparently it was _not_ his way to be overly friendly with the staff. That made his behavior toward the pretty witch all the more curious . . . and worrisome.

When they reached wider, better illuminated corridors Merlin stopped and held out his arm for Morgana to take; she surmised that they were now in the part of the castle where the court had gathered, so it was time for them to put on a show of togetherness. She hooked her arm around his just above the elbow and rested her other hand on his forearm, and they continued forward to a set of huge double doors with handles in the likeness of the kingdom's phoenix emblem, which were opened for them by a pair of spear-toting guards.

The banquet hall, like the one in Camelot's royal palace, had a large chamber for pre-dinner mingling adjoining the even larger room where the feast would be served. Unlike Uther's dining hall, both rooms of this one were connected to a terrace; in the anteroom there was simply a wide archway, but in the dining hall there was an entire wall missing. The roof was supported by stone pillars instead, leaving the entire room open to the night.

"What unusual architecture," Morgana remarked.

"Do you like it?" Merlin hoped she did; he wanted her to be pleased with her new home.

"It is very . . . scenic, but it seems to me that this hall must be awfully drafty when the wind is up."

"It isn't."

"How do you prevent drafts when a whole side of the room has no wall?"

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Magic, naturally."

He hadn't spoken condescendingly, but Morgana still felt stupid. _'Naturally', yes, of course - how could I forget? My new maid is a witch, there's some sort of magical barrier keeping drafts and chills out of the dining hall, and the torches and candles in the chandelier burn so brightly one might wonder if the flames were conjured by magic as well!_ Next she wondered if her imagination was running away with her.

Arthur and Lancelot came over to talk to her and Merlin respectively, and Morgana hoped to snatch a moment's conversation with her brother while Merlin's attention was occupied by his second-in-command - she had heard Arthur and Sir Leon go on about training, tournaments, and military matters at great length - but it wasn't to be; once the kingdom's highest-ranking knight had approached and been acknowledged by the prince and his lady, everyone else followed Lancelot's example. Soon people were positively lining up to speak to them.

Merlin greeted each of his father's subjects warmly, shaking hands with the men and kissing the women's hands if they offered them, and introducing Morgana and Arthur over and over until Morgana thought she might scream if she heard him repeat their names one more time, keeping his left arm linked with hers all the while as if to let all and sundry know she was _with_ him. Morgana was grateful for this; seeing that their prince had a prior claim on her deterred most of the men from doing more than bowing, and those that were brave enough to kiss her hand were quick about it. Still, it was a relief when the trumpeters summoned them to dinner.

She and Arthur were given places at the royal table to the left of the king, while Merlin sat on Balinor's right. The dragonlord waited for everybody to take their seats, then stood up, instantly commanding the attention of every person in the hall, and began to speak. "As you all will have noticed, we are joined tonight by Prince Arthur of Camelot and the Lady Morgana, ward of Uther Pendragon. It is my hope that each and every one of you will join me in extending a warm welcome to our honored guests." He paused as courtiers and servants alike dutifully applauded. "I am also pleased to announce that our kingdoms are soon to become much closer allies. My lords and ladies, people of Dagon, it brings me great joy to present my son's future bride, the Lady Morgana!"

Applause rang through the hall again, this time underscored by a low, hissing flurry of whispers and a great rustle of movement as at least two thirds of those assembled turned in their seats to look at their prince's fiancée. Morgana bore their stares - some of which she thought were insultingly disbelieving - stoically, keeping her face impassive and her head high, refusing to shrink away from their inspection.

Arthur laid his hand reassuringly over hers. "Don't worry about them," he said quietly. "They'll come around once they realize what a great queen you'll be."

"Thank you, Arthur." Morgana smiled tightly, briefly squeezed his fingers, then slid her hand out of his grasp, not wanting to appear dependent on her foster brother.

Balinor called for the food to be served; its appearance was greeted with great enthusiasm.

"Finally, we can get something decent to eat!" Arthur exclaimed. Then his face fell slightly. "You don't think Merlin was serious when he said they would serve beans, do you?"

Merlin's jest at Arthur's expense, however, proved to be just that - there was roast venison, diced tomatoes, drumsticks, three different kinds of bread, and an assortment of green, leafy things, but no beans. After the last of the dessert (chocolate custard) had been cleared away, the music and dancing began. Morgana hoped Merlin would dance with her, but he'd no sooner risen from his chair than he was surrounded by knights offering their congratulations on his engagement.

"Doesn't look like he'll be getting away from them any time soon," observed Arthur.

"No, it does not," Morgana agreed. "Which means I'll have to make do with you instead." She dragged Arthur onto the dance floor.

He escaped after the first dance, so Morgana headed back toward the royal table, hoping to extricate Merlin from his well-wishers. Before she reached her goal, someone else moved into her path: a noblewoman around her own age with a pale, creamy complexion, wide, dark gray eyes, and an aquiline nose that resembled a bird's beak just a fraction too much - the only thing detracting from an otherwise flawless face, which was framed by hair as long and thick as Morgana's. This girl's hair, though, was a lustrous, fiery red. If Freya had told the truth and Morgana was indeed the most stunning woman at the feast, this was clearly the one from whom she'd stolen that title. "Hello, Lady Morgana. I'm the Lady Sirenia of Stonecliff."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Sirenia of Stonecliff glanced over her shoulder at Merlin. "Not keeping you from your prince, am I?"

"No more than all those knights. I had hoped to dance with my fiancé, but it can wait."

"Perhaps you'll allow me to introduce some friends of mine, then?"

"Of course." _I may as well occupy my time until Merlin is free meeting my peers in this kingdom. _

Sirenia's friends were a pair of blondes named Lady Diana and Lady Karina, and a hazel-eyed brunette called Lady Amalla. Morgana was secretly pleased to see that these three, at least, couldn't touch her for beauty. Lady Diana was too plump, and Lady Karina's large, cow-like brown eyes and simpering smile made her look quite the dullard. Lady Amalla, while not ugly, was simply plain. As a group, the trio made for tedious company; Diana told Morgana when and where the ladies of the castle met to do needlework and then began prattling about her embroidery, while Karina and Amalla listened raptly.

Morgana's eyes had nearly glazed over from boredom when Sirenia suddenly asked how she'd met Merlin. Diana stopped talking the instant Sirenia's mouth opened, and she and Karina both turned their full attention on Morgana. "We met when he and his father visited Camelot, of course," she answered, thinking that it should have been obvious. "There really hasn't been any other occasion for our paths to cross, what with our kingdoms not being on friendly terms until recently."

"You've known one another for only a short time then, yet you're already planning to marry . . ."

"Ooh, I just _love_ whirlwind romances," Lady Karina cooed. "They're so . . . _romantic_."

Sirenia shot her supposed friend a look of pure disgust. "This was no whirlwind romance, you fool!" she hissed. "Anyone with half a brain can see that this engagement resulted from our kingdom making peace with Camelot - Uther Pendragon knew he could not win once King Balinor had persuaded the dragons to fight with us, but rather than surrender unconditionally he took the opportunity to arrange an advantageous match for his ward."

Morgana realized she had underestimated the redhead; this was one noblewoman whose head wasn't filled only with air. _The only intelligent woman I've encountered since arriving here, except perhaps Freya . . . and I find myself liking her less and less by the second. _

"The one thing that is not clear," Sirenia continued pleasantly, "is why Prince Merlin gave in to the old tyrant's demands."

Morgana frowned, partly because her guardian had just been insulted - though that angered her much less than it might have once; she herself had harbored a few ungracious thoughts about Uther since he'd decided to marry her off - but mostly out of confusion. "If this was what his father wanted, what else might he have done?"

Sirenia, Karina, Amalla, and Diana all gaped at her. "Good heavens," Sirenia whispered, "you have no idea what he's capable of, do you? What he's meant to become?"

"He's meant to become king of these lands, I suppose," Morgana said warily.

"Oh, he certainly will be that. He's also the first person anyone knows of to be born with the powers of a warlock _and_ a dragonlord in his blood. The ancient prophecies told us that when those magical lines united, the child born of their union would be the greatest sorcerer of all time. We all thought that if he ever married he would choose someone of comparable power, instead of which he picks . . . you? What on earth could have induced him to accept someone as ignorant and talentless as _you_?"

Morgana's fiery temper ignited; she may not possess powerful magic, but she wasn't useless. Nor did she think her lack of magic made her wrong for Merlin, and she said so in her coldest, haughtiest manner.

Sirenia merely arched her eyebrows skeptically over her malicious, stormy eyes. "Well . . . we shall see. Enjoy your celebration, Lady Morgana." She glided away, her friends - or followers - in tow, leaving Morgana fuming. _How_ dare_ she!_

"That went well." Morgana whirled around. There was Merlin, leaning on a pillar and watching her as if she had been putting on a show for his entertainment.

She stormed over to him, ready to vent her anger on the new target who had just presented himself. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough."

"Why were you eavesdropping on me?"

"That wasn't what I meant to do; I've warned Lady Sirenia once before to leave my friends alone and it looked like she'd forgotten, so I was going to remind her, but then I realized it might come off as defending you. I didn't think you'd like that."

"No, I would not have liked that at all," Morgana agreed. "Is my lack of magic really such a problem, though?"

"We haven't had a non-magical ruler in hundreds of years, and some people are resistant to change. Others just take any chance they get to stir up trouble." Merlin cast a dark look at the table where Sirenia was now flirting with five or six knights.

"Surely one woman cannot cause much trouble," Morgana said dismissively, wishing Merlin would take his eyes off the redhead; she didn't like him paying so much attention to another girl, even if he was glaring at her rather than admiring.

"She causes plenty of trouble," he snapped, "when she throws herself at my men, distracting them and making them fight over her." There was a barely perceptible note of warning in his voice - without saying it directly, he was cautioning her against engaging in similar behavior.

Morgana frowned; she might have flirted occasionally, but she never deliberately made trouble. Still, she was flattered that Merlin found her desirable enough to be capable of causing that sort of trouble. "If she is as bad as you say, why do you not expel her from court?"

"Because she's the daughter of the highest-ranking lord on my father's council," Merlin explained with obvious frustration. "Father won't offend him by throwing her out without a damn good reason."

Just then Will showed up, maneuvering between dancing couples to reach them. "Merlin, I think you should know Gwaine's found a new drinking partner."

"Who?"

"Prince Arthur," Will huffed, "and that bootlicking idiot Cedric - sorry, my lady-"

"No need. I don't think much of Cedric either," Morgana assured him.

"Right. Anyway, he won't cut them off!"

Merlin looked across the hall at the table where Arthur had taken a seat beside Gwaine, and Cedric was even now pouring them more ale. "This can't be good."


	20. Shenanigans

**GalanthaDreams: Don't worry about incoherency; it happens to me sometimes too, and I was happy to read your review. Thanks! **

**Warning: if you like Arthur and Gwaine too much to appreciate humor at their expense you may want to skip to the end of this chapter, because that's where the Mergana action is. **

Gwen was making her round of the hall, refilling goblets as needed, when she spotted Arthur standing alone, watching Morgana mingle with a quartet of female courtiers and seemingly not enjoying himself at all. She sighed and made her way over to him. "Would you like a drink, sire?"

Arthur barely glanced at her. "No thank you."

Her timid stab at distracting him from whatever he was brooding over having failed, Gwen plucked up her courage and tried again, more forcefully this time. "Then perhaps you'd like to ask one of those ladies to dance, or . . . do something besides standing here staring at Morgana. This is a celebration - you're supposed to be having fun."

Now Arthur turned to look her full in the face, his expression incredulous. "I'm not here to have _fun_, Guinevere, I'm here to ensure my sister stays in one piece until she's married off to a sorcerer she barely knows!"

Gwen swallowed hard; disagreeing with the headstrong prince didn't come easily to her. "Maybe . . . maybe the situation isn't as bad as you'd have it be. Maybe this is what Morgana wants," she squeaked.

Arthur chuckled. "No, I don't think so. Like I said, she hardly knows Merlin, and _he's a sorcerer_. Morgana's afraid of magic. Of course she doesn't want to marry him!"

His patronizing tone sparked Gwen's usually quiescent temper. "Have you ever asked her how she feels about it, sire? I have, and I can tell you she likes Prince Merlin well enough." She bit down on her tongue to stop herself saying something more that she might regret later, such as: _She'd rather marry him than _you_, you prat!_

"There's no reason she shouldn't." This assertion came from Lancelot, who had joined them just in time to overhear the last thing Gwen said. "Merlin is a good man."

Grateful to have been saved from an argument with Arthur - Morgana could hold her own against him, but Gwen unfortunately didn't possess confidence in such reserves as did her mistress - Gwen gave the knight one of her ever-ready smiles. "Drink, sir?"

"No thank you, Miss Guinevere. I'd be honored if you would join me for the next dance, though."

"Me? B-but I'm supposed to be working-"

"There are enough of the staff here to keep everyone's goblets full, but I understand if you'd rather not dance with me," Lancelot assured her softly, looking crestfallen.

Gwen felt herself wavering. Knights didn't dance with maids in Camelot, but Sir Lancelot was such a nice man; she hated to disappoint him. And anyway, wasn't it her duty to serve those of higher status in any way they asked? And surely someone as upstanding as Lancelot wouldn't invite her to dance if his king would disapprove - he wouldn't want to cause trouble with the king, for her or himself . . . "Very well, I'll dance with you."

Arthur watched in disbelief as Gwen set her serving tray down and let Lancelot lead her onto the dance floor, then looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the knight and the maid going off to dance together. Surely someone would put a stop to it? But the only ones besides himself who seemed to be paying any attention to Gwen and Lancelot were a pair of commoners, Merlin's sharp-tongued friend and the maid Balinor had ordered to attend Morgana. Arthur stormed over to them and demanded of the girl, "Is he allowed to take advantage of her like that?"

"The king doesn't permit his knights to take advantage of anyone," Freya calmly replied, "but they are permitted to dance with whomever they please. I don't think Sir Lancelot's doing Gwen any harm."

"What's it to you anyway?" Gwaine wanted to know. "Why do you care what happens to a maid?"

"Guinevere is more than a maid to Morgana - she's her friend."

"So you're only concerned about her welfare out of regard for your foster sister?" Freya asked skeptically.

"That's right."

"Then if you didn't want her to go with Lancelot, maybe _you_ should have asked her to dance."

"Um, I don't know that I wanted to dance with her myself . . ."

"You're never gonna get anywhere by pretending you don't care about her," Gwaine exclaimed. "Girls like it better when you fuss over them. I let my woman know I appreciate her, don't I, Freya?" He threw an arm around Freya's shoulders. Freya rolled her eyes slightly but let it stay there; Gwaine's antics after drinking too much at dinner might be annoying, but they were harmless.

"Oh, are the two of you together?" Arthur inquired politely, noting with some confusion that while the girl wasn't trying to get out of Gwaine's one-armed embrace, she appeared singularly unenthusiastic.

Gwaine nodded. "She's mad about me, she just doesn't realize it yet."

Freya huffed indignantly, shrugged his arm off, and stalked off, resolving not to speak to Gwaine again until he sobered up and remembered that she was _not_ 'his woman'.

"I doubt she'll be realizing any feelings for you any time soon," Arthur commented.

"You could be right," Gwaine agreed, seemingly completely unbothered. "Until she does, I think you and I need a drink to take those girls off our minds."

Arthur didn't appreciate the suggestion that he needed his mind taken off Gwen - it implied that he fancied her, which was preposterous - but he couldn't deny that a drink sounded good. He summoned Cedric. Before long one drink turned into two, then three. By their sixth goblet Arthur and Gwaine were sitting side by side, the former alternately scowling at Gwen and Lancelot, who were still dancing, and Morgana and Merlin, who were standing close together and talking in what seemed to Arthur a conspiratorial manner.

"Why're you watching Merlin and-" Gwaine paused, struggling to remember the name of his friend's fiancée, but it eluded him. He settled for waving a hand vaguely in her direction. "-That girl? You don't like her _and_ her maid, do you?"

"Father made me her . . . her chaperone until she gets married. It's my . . . duty." Arthur was now slurring his words slightly like his companion, and pausing periodically to marshal thoughts that had been scattered by too many goblets of the kingdom's best ale.

Gwaine laughed. "She doesn't need shaper . . . chaperoon . . . um, watching. Merlin won't try anything with her."

Arthur gave a skeptical _humph_.

"It's true," Gwaine insisted. "Me, I like to have a little fun with the ladies, but Merlin has this notion about 'waiting for the right one'. I asked him, how d'you know when you've found the right one, and he said some things that didn't make sense." He leaned closer to Arthur, as if about to share a great secret. "He does that sometimes."

Arthur nodded very seriously. Merlin rarely made any sense.

"I hope that . . . what's-her-name . . . is the right one, or he'll be right miserable . . ."

"Why shouldn't she be?" Arthur asked indignantly. "There's nothing wrong with Morgana! I mean, she _is_ my sister, but she's pretty decent . . . for a sister." He drained the last of his drink and held it out to be refilled.

Cedric began pouring more ale, but then Morgana appeared, seized him by the ear and dragged him away. He dropped his serving pitcher, which rolled under the table, spilling its contents over the floor. Gwaine was sad to see perfectly good ale wasted, but happy to see his good friend Merlin. He lurched to his feet and grabbed the warlock around the neck.

"Well, I see there's no need to ask you how much you've had to drink," Merlin mumbled, his voice muffled by the other man's shoulder; Gwaine only hugged people for no good reason when intoxicated. "Will!"

Will hurried forward and helped Merlin free himself from their drunken friend. "You really need to stop drinking so much, mate."

"I hadn't had too much . . . but then Freya turned me down again," Gwaine said morosely.

"You really care about her that much?" Merlin asked in surprise.

"She's not like all the other girls - she's nice, and smart, and she's got those big brown eyes the color of . . . er-" he cast about for a suitable comparison and lit on something he saw a great deal of in the stables "-horse dung . . ."

"If you really feel that way, you should tell her sometime when you're sober."

"And leave out the bit about the dung," Morgana added, picking her way around the puddle of spilled alcohol. "No woman will find that flattering. My lord, may I suggest removing your friend from the hall?"

"Good idea. Will, could you please take Gwaine to his room?"

"How am I supposed to manage him on my own?"

"Cedric will help you." Morgana turned to the manservant, who was trailing after her like a whipped dog with its tail between its legs, rubbing his ear. "Won't you, Cedric?"

He nodded vigorously - any excuse to get away from Morgana was fine by him. He and Will each took one of Gwaine's arms, and between them steered him out of the dining hall. Gwaine grumbled a little but offered no real resistance, rather like a slightly bad-tempered, extremely talkative lamb.

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief when Gwaine was out of sight; he was very fond of the man, but Gwaine really needed to do something about his excessive drinking. "Now, what are we going to do about Prince Arthur?"

The heir to Camelot's throne had laid his head on the table and fallen sound asleep. Morgana smiled an evil little smile. "I think we should leave him there. He looks so peaceful that I'd hate to disturb him."

"But won't he be upset if people see him like this?"

"Serves him right for drinking too much," Morgana said firmly, and Merlin found that he couldn't argue with her. "Now, I believe I'm supposed to be celebrating my engagement, but my future husband keeps getting distracted."

"Well, he sounds like a right dollop-head. He, er, probably should have asked you to dance a lot sooner."

"He should have," Morgana agreed as coolly as was possible when faced with Merlin's adorable, sheepishly apologetic grin, "but if he would dance with me now I might forgive him."

Almost everyone watched them as they joined the dancers, so that for the moment Arthur needn't worry about being seen in his undignified position. Morgana was happy to have her prince's full attention at last . . . but then she saw something, or rather someone, who pulled _her_ attention away. "Was that Gwen I saw just now? With Sir Lancelot?"

Merlin spun them around in time with the music so the couple was in his line of sight. "I think it is."

"Is that allowed? I don't want Gwen punished for dancing when she should be serving."

"She won't be."

"May I speak frankly, my lord, and trust that you will do the same?"

"All right. What's on your mind?"

"I believe that Sir Lancelot has taken something of an interest in Gwen, and I wish to know if I should be worried."

"What's worrying you?"

"His intentions for one-"

"You don't need to fret over that," Merlin said instantly. "Lancelot is one of the most honorable men I know."

Morgana searched his face for any hint of dishonesty, found none, and moved on. "Since Gwen seems receptive to his advances, my next point of concern is whether being courted by a knight would land her in trouble."

This time Merlin hesitated before answering. "It isn't . . . well thought of for nobles to openly prefer the company of servants over someone of their own rank, but Father's only as strict about it as he needs to be to keep certain people happy. Anyway, Lancelot isn't a nobleman."

Morgana was so shocked she almost fell out of step, only just correcting herself in time with a little help from her partner. "He isn't? Then how did he become a knight?"

"He's a skilled swordsman," Merlin replied, his tone suggesting it should be obvious.

Morgana shook her head slowly. "Uther would never knight a commoner, no matter their skill."

"In case you haven't noticed-" As the music reached its crescendo, Merlin pulled Morgana in close and dipped her so low that the ends of her hair nearly brushed the floor. "-Things are a little different here."

He set her back on her feet when the music ended, then asked if she wanted to dance again.

"I think not - I've had enough of being turned upside down for a while."

"Or we could go out onto the terrace; there's a good view from there."

The view of the palace gardens and the clear, starry sky was breathtaking, but so was the chilly night air; the magical barrier that kept the hall warm and free of drafts didn't extend past the wall of pillars. Morgana shivered and wished for her white fur wrap. When a sudden breeze blew Merlin's black cape toward her, she caught the end of it and wrapped it around her bare shoulders, to Merlin's amusement. "Too cold for you? You should cover yourself better when you go out."

"I am only out of doors tonight because of you," Morgana retorted. "It is beautiful, though."

"I'm glad you think so. I know you aren't here by your own choice and this place won't feel like your home right away . . . but I hope you can be happy here."

"Thank you, my lord. My first day here has been pleasant enough." Merlin's left hand was resting on the low wall around the terrace; Morgana tentatively laid her own hand over it. "I'm touched by your concern." She felt his hand flip underneath hers, and then their fingers were laced together. He was holding her hand for the first time. This pleased Morgana more than she thought it should, but she made herself appear unaffected and continued, "Between the Lady Sirenia and Arthur's and Gwaine's antics, though, I could do with a little less excitement at the next feast."

Merlin laughed quietly. "Funny, I thought exactly the same thing after my first night in Camelot."

She laughed with him then, and their hands remained linked.

**Twenty chapters, and we're just now getting some hand-holding. I did say in the beginning that this would be a slowly progressing relationship, didn't I? No? Well now you know. Maybe in twenty more chapters we'll get to see a hug or even, if I feel particularly daring, their first kiss. **

**I hope all of you had a very merry Christmas, and happy New Year!**


	21. The Dragonlord's Council

**This is my first story to reach 500 reviews AND get over 100,000 hits and I've been meaning to thank you guys for that, yet somehow I kept forgetting. So here it finally is: all of you are awesome, and thank you very much!**

**Now for the warnings: this chapter includes some discussion of religion, specifically the issues that can arise in a relationship when the two people who adhere to different ones. I hope this won't offend anyone and I want to make it clear that I am NOT using this story to proselytize in any way, nor does anything written here reflect my own personal beliefs. Aside from that, there's also a bit of Morgana being mean to Arthur. **

The next morning, Morgana was awakened by Freya. There was light coming through her window, but it was hazy and grayish; it must be just after dawn - earlier than Morgana usually liked to get up, especially after celebrating late into the previous night. "Why did you wake me?" she asked, frowning at the maid, "And what are you doing here so early?"

"I'm sorry, my lady, I didn't know what hours you prefer to keep. I would have left when I saw you were still asleep, but you were . . . twitching, and frowning as if you were in pain. Are you all right?"

"I am fine. I must have been dreaming - nothing for you to worry about. Please go and fetch breakfast."

Freya inclined her head respectfully and left. When the door clicked shut behind her, Morgana slid out of bed, entered the small maid's room where Gwen slept, and gently shook her friend. "Gwen, wake up."

There was an urgent, almost pleading note in her mistress's voice that woke Gwen instantly. "Morgana, what is it? Are you all right?"

Visibly upset, the lady shook her head. "I had a dream. Gwen, the sleeping draft Gaius gave me has run out. I must get more."

Gwen squeezed Morgana's hand. "Let's get you dressed and some food in you, and then we'll find the court physician. Do you want to talk about your dream?"

"I don't remember much, just feelings. I was afraid, and I could not breathe. I don't know what to make of it."

"Well, maybe this one doesn't mean anything."

Morgana nodded doubtfully, wishing she could share Gwen's optimism.

###

Freya brought breakfast, and Morgana dressed and ate, but just as she set her bowl aside a servant knocked on the door with a message that forced her to postpone her visit to the court physician. "King Balinor wishes to see you in his council chambers at your earliest convenience, my lady."

"Well, we mustn't keep the king waiting." Morgana dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and rose from her chair. "I shall go to him now."

"Excellent, my lady. If you'll follow me, please."

In the corridors Morgana crossed paths with Arthur, who had also been called to meet with the king. Noticing that the prince's eyes were bloodshot and he showed every sign of a sore head, she chirped, "Good morning, Arthur! _Glorious_ day, isn't it?"

He winced. "Must you be so loud, Morgana?"

She blithely ignored his complaint. "Where is your horrid little pet troll?"

"Cedric? I had him put in the stocks - you won't believe what that idiot did! He let me fall asleep in the dining hall, and left me there all night! Do you have any idea how uncomfortable sleeping in a chair is?"

"No, I do not."

The council was in full swing when they arrived, with three of the thirteen members engaged in a heated debate while Balinor listened raptly. No one paid Arthur and Morgana any mind except Merlin, who got up and joined them where they stood just inside the door, wondering why they had been summoned and what they were supposed to do now they were there. "Those three are fighting over grain production and distribution," Merlin explained in a low voice. "Lord Thierry is asking that extra supplies be sent to his lands because their last harvest was poor, Lord Eligor's saying we should look for a spell to make the fields in Thierry's province more productive instead of dipping into stores that are meant to be a precaution against a blight or siege, and Fredrick-" he gestured to a red-faced man who was actually pounding the table with his fist "-is arguing that magically altering the soil's composition would violate nature and could have disastrous consequences."

"Well, that sounds fascinating," Arthur drawled.

"Father will give them another five minutes, then move along to the part we need you for."

"Which is what, exactly?" Morgana asked.

"Our wedding," Merlin mumbled. He was suddenly looking at Morgana's chin rather than into her eyes, and scuffing the toe of his boot against the highly polished floor.

"I see. Do you know when it will be?"

"That's what we're here to decide, among other things. Why don't you and Arthur sit down?" Merlin's eyes flashed and a pair of spare chairs flew over to the long, rectangular table. None of the men seated there batted an eyelash, or indicated that they had even noticed.

A few minutes later Balinor ended the debate with a promise to seriously consider Eligor's proposed solution, and asked Merlin and Fredrick to look into ways to make Thierry's fields more fertile without upsetting the balance of nature too much, if it could be done. "Now we'll turn our attention to the next item on our agenda: Merlin's wedding to the Lady Morgana. Prince Arthur, as her chaperone and representative of her guardian, King Uther of Camelot, do you have any conditions to set forth?"

"Only that my father wishes for the marriage to take place as soon as possible."

"Would twelve weeks from today suit him?"

"Three months?" Morgana blurted. "So soon?" She had heard that some engagements lasted half a year or longer.

"The king is confident that that will be plenty of time to make all the necessary preparations," one of the lords assured her.

"Unless the lady does not wish to be married," another added slyly. "In which case I'm sure we would all love to hear her reasons." The speaker had a sharp, hawkish nose and vibrant red hair - he could only be the Lady Sirenia's father, Lord Syrus of Stonecliff.

"I have none, my lord," Morgana replied politely but coolly. "I'll be agreeable to any date this council chooses."

"It's decided then," said Balinor with obvious satisfaction. "The date is set, and the best dressmaker in the kingdom has been commissioned to make your gown. She will, of course, consult with you on the design first."

Morgana, pleased to hear that she was to have some input on what she wore for her wedding, thanked the king enthusiastically.

"You," Balinor added to Merlin, "will be getting a new outfit as well."

Merlin, who had been leaning to one side with his chin propped on his left hand, staring blankly out of a window and idly drumming the fingers of his other hand on the arm of his chair, clearly lost in thought, jerked upright. "Huh? Why?"

"Because the occasion merits it," his father said patiently, if a bit gruffly, "and because you haven't gotten any new clothes in more than a year."

"I have all the clothes I need," Merlin grumbled. "I mostly wear the same thing all week anyway." Morgana was horrified.

"Now, on to the guests-"

"What about the question of who will officiate, sire?" Lord Syrus cut in. "You may recall that last night I suggested inviting the High Priestess to perform the ceremony, in consideration of her friendship with the prince."

Merlin brightened noticeably. "You're right, she'd probably take it as a personal insult if we _didn't_ ask her, and I'd like for her to be there."

"Wait," Arthur said sharply. "Are you talking about a priestess of the Old Religion?"

"Not _a_ priestess, my lord," Thierry said a little disparagingly, "the _High_ Priestess. The most powerful practitioner in our order."

"But Morgana doesn't follow your religion, so she can't be married by one of its priestesses."

There was a moment's silence as the council considered this. "I don't suppose she could convert?" Lord Eckhart eventually asked.

"Absolutely not," Arthur snapped. "Out of the question."

Morgana was relieved. She wasn't especially devout, but converting to the Old Religion would still be very much against certain beliefs that had been deeply ingrained in her since childhood. If the lords of Dagon insisted that she adopt their creed, she didn't know what she would do.

Sensing Morgana's agitation, Merlin took her tightly clenched hand and rubbed it soothingly with his thumb, which calmed her a little. "She doesn't need to convert to the Old Religion; I'll just ask Nimueh to leave out the magical bonding bit of the ceremony." He would have done that anyway, because magical bonds were tricky things. Both partners' magical cores had to be as nearly equal as possible, otherwise the stronger magic would eventually overtake the weaker, with horrible results since a person's magic was so closely linked to their soul.

Bonding to a person with no magic at all was unthinkable, but Merlin couldn't stop himself thinking about it. His magic was strong enough to dominate everyone else he'd ever met; with nothing in her to counter it, it would consume Morgana, draining her of her free will and sense of self. In time there would be nothing left of her but an empty-eyed puppet incapable of such simple actions as rising from bed and eating unless her master commanded it.

Merlin shoved the horrifying image out of his mind and gently squeezed Morgana's hand. _I could never do that to you. I could never do that to _anyone_. _

The council accepted his solution and moved on to the guest list. It was extensive - the kingdom's most important allies had to be invited, and then there were Merlin's personal friends, most of whom lived in Dagon, though there was a Princess Elena from another land. They even decided to invite the Great Dragon, since the dragons were bound to be interested in the future dragonlord's mate. Morgana could hardly believe her ears. _A dragon at my wedding! This is impossible!_

Balinor had to ask if there was anyone she wished to invite twice before she heard him. "Oh . . . I have no family except the Pendragons, and Uther will receive an invitation anyway. Arthur's already here of course."

"Your choice of guests isn't limited to relatives. Any friends of yours are welcome too."

Morgana dropped her eyes to hers and Merlin's clasped hands as a faint flush heated her face. "If you'll allow it, sire, it would mean a lot to me if my maid Gwen and Gaius could be there. Both have been my companions through some trying times in my life and are closer to me than anyone except for Arthur and Uther."

"Of course," Balinor agreed easily. "Whatever you want."

"Thank you, my lord."

"Well, I think that's everything concerning the wedding. Next we need to discuss your education-"

"I have been educated," Morgana protested. "I can read and write, and I know a little of the history of Albion."

"Good. Not familiar with the laws and customs of Dagon though, are you?"

"No, she isn't," Merlin said, shooting Morgana an apologetic glance. "Last night she told me that commoners were never knighted in Camelot and couldn't figure out why it's any different here."

"Uther never deemed it necessary for me to make much of a study of law," Morgana defended herself. "Certainly not the laws of lands I would probably never see."

"Well you'll have to learn it now," Lord Syrus informed her. "Traditionally the queen is the king's closest advisor and co-ruler."

The other lords nodded their agreement.

"Lord Syrus is right. Lady Morgana, I will arrange lessons with our court genealogist and historian. You will have to work hard so that you can assume your seat on this council when you're married."

Morgana nodded nervously. Thus far Balinor had been nothing but kind to her, and she didn't want to disappoint him. More than that, she desperately wanted to be a queen Merlin could be proud of.

Balinor gave her an approving smile. "Good girl. Now, unless there's anything else . . .?" Nobody spoke up. "The council is dismissed."

Merlin stood up, finally releasing Morgana's hand, and stretched. After working the stiffness out of his muscles he realized that she hadn't left but was still there, watching him. "Something you need, my lady?"

"There's nothing. I'm just curious as to what you do with yourself all day."

"I have a little time now, and then I'm meeting Fredrick in the library for some research."

"What are you researching? That problem with Lord Thierry's barren fields?"

Merlin shrugged. "That, and a few other things. Practical magic to serve the needs of the people. It can be a bit tedious but it's necessary, and we usually make quick work of it. You could join us if you like."

Morgana politely declined. "I'm afraid I need to see your physician instead."

"Are you ill?"

"No." Merlin's brow was still knit in concern; Morgana's short, evasive answer hadn't satisfied him. She sighed. "I have trouble sleeping sometimes."

Merlin grinned, relieved that it was nothing serious. "Insomnia? Edwin can take care of that, no problem. I could take you to his workplace right now."

"I would be most grateful."

As they left the council chamber, Morgana paused just long enough to scowl at Arthur, who was skulking outside the door, obviously listening to everything they said to one another. "If I'd known he would be such a dedicated chaperone, I would have asked Uther for somebody else. I don't understand it - he's never been this protective before."

"He doesn't trust me, at least not where you're concerned."

"What!"

"I don't know exactly what he thinks I'm going to do to you-"

"Funny how he didn't seem worried about that last night, when he was drinking himself into a stupor!" Morgana said viciously, raising her voice so Arthur could hear.

He shot her a look that was somewhere between angry and wounded and slunk off, looking embarrassed.

"I know he's annoying," Merlin remarked, "and I don't appreciate him thinking I can't be trusted with you, but that was a little harsh."


	22. Magic and Morality

**Mediatrix & kyuubi shadow: Thank you both.**

**Galantha Dreams: Thank you, I'm happy I can help improve your mood. I've had days when I really wanted something to give me a lift, so if I can do that for you I'm pleased to do it. **

**Gemmaaaaa: Merlin and Morgana are totally cute together aren't they? I don't know exactly how many chapters there will be until the wedding, but I'm guessing it'll be more than ten. This will be a fairly long story. **

**Warning: OCs feature heavily in this chapter. Please don't be put off by that, it's not going to become a regular thing. **

Outside the physician's quarters, Merlin stopped to tell Morgana, "Whatever you do, don't stare. Edwin hates that."

The lady's eyebrows lifted slightly. "I don't understand, my lord."

"You will." Merlin opened the door to the infirmary and motioned Morgana inside. The physician - at first glance a perfectly average man clad in a plain brown robe, with thick, sandy hair - was bent over his worktable, studying something under his magnifying glass. Merlin cleared his throat. "Edwin, I've brought you a patient."

The physician waved a hand impatiently. "Yes, yes, I've been dispensing headache remedies all morning. You know where they're kept, sire."

"I beg your pardon," Morgana said heatedly. "I am _not_ here because I overindulged last night!"

Edwin put down his glass and finally turned to face her head-on. Morgana inhaled sharply. The right side of the man's face was a mass of rough white scar tissue which stretched down his throat to the collar of his robe. Morgana couldn't imagine what horrific injury he must have sustained to cause such an extensive disfigurement; against Merlin's advice, she seemed powerless to tear her gaze from the physician's scars.

"My lady, allow me to present Edwin Muirden, court physician of Dagon. Edwin, my fiancée, the Lady Morgana of Camelot."

Edwin bowed. "Yes, I heard the news from at least two dozen people who were at the feast. It seems congratulations are in order. Now, what ails you, my lady?"

"I cannot sleep. I've taken sleeping drafts for this problem for years; the physician who treated me in Camelot wrote down the formula-"

"If it pleases my lady, I prefer to examine new patients myself and make my own diagnoses."

Merlin nodded encouragingly, so Morgana seated herself on Edwin's workbench. Edwin examined her thoroughly, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to check her temperature, taking her pulse at her wrist and under her jaw, and depressing her tongue with a thin, flat piece of smooth wood so he could look down into her throat. Lastly, he conjured a small flame inches from her face. Morgana jumped. "Master Muirden!"

"Pardon me, my lady, I only meant to observe your pupils' reaction to sudden changes in light. Quite routine, I assure you. Now, about the nature of your affliction: are you unable to fall asleep, or do you find yourself awakening during the night?"

Morgana glanced from Edwin to Merlin, who was perusing the various items on Edwin's shelves with an air that suggested he was already intimately familiar with everything in the room. She wasn't keen on discussing her nightmares within earshot of him. "I have nightmares," she admitted quietly. "They wake me at all hours, and sometimes I don't want to sleep at all. But sooner or later I must."

Edwin _hmm_ed softly. "What do you dream about, my lady?"

Morgana's voice dropped to the merest whisper. "Dreadful things."

Edwin patted her shoulder sympathetically. Somehow the gesture wasn't as comforting as when Gaius did it. "I shall prepare the potion you require and have it sent to you this evening."

"Thank you, Master Muirden."

###

Morgana spent the day exploring the castle with Gwen and Freya, who explained the layout of the palace, its magical security, various strange creatures featured in sculptures and tapestries that the two Camelot natives had never seen before, and even the dazzling white stone the castle was built of. "It's quartz from the province of Stonecliff, my lady. It's been a popular building material for years, which has made Lord Syrus a very rich man."

"So that's where his influence comes from," Morgana muttered.

At half-past six she reported to the library for her first lesson with the court historian, Theodosius. At least ninety years of age, his wrinkled head was topped with wispy whitish-gray hair, and his thin frame reminded Morgana of a stick insect. "Welcome, Lady Morgana, to my humble abode," he greeted her in a voice like two dry old leaves rubbing together.

Morgana shook his hand gently - his skin felt like paper stretched over a frame of brittle twigs for bones, and she worried his hand might break if she gripped it too hard. "Surely you don't live here?"

"My quarters are adjacent to this library, and I hardly ever leave it. Documenting and preserving the history of this kingdom is my life, Lady; indeed, much of it _was_ my life. I have seen much, over the years . . . Now, the king has asked me to teach you about Dagon, and so I will." Wrapping bony fingers around her arm, he led her to a table piled high with books and motioned for her to sit. "We will begin with what you will need to know to pass the test for admittance to the king's council." He pulled a tome more than six inches thick from one of the stacks - Morgana was amazed that he could lift it - and placed it in front of her with a _thud_ that seemed very loud in the silence of the library. Little clouds of dust puffed into the air as he turned the pages. "You know how to read, my lady?"

"Of course I can read!" Morgana said indignantly.

"Then you may begin with this passage here." Theodosius indicated the place with a jab of his finger.

Morgana blew away yet more dust and began reading the faded script. For the next hour she studied the kingdom's laws on matters mundane and magical while Theodosius hovered over her, offering the occasional anecdote about cases where a particular law had decided an accused person's guilt or innocence. He also seemed to know every instance when new laws had been created, or when existing ones had been amended or repealed.

When he decided she'd had enough for one night he closed the book and asked, "What are the rules governing the use of magic in combat?"

Morgana kneaded her knuckles over her forehead, which felt ready to burst with all the new information her brain had absorbed. "There are no rules except in jousts, tournaments, or formal duels between knights. Using magic in jousts to affect one's opponent's mount or aim with a lance is illegal. In tournaments magic may only be used in sorcerers' competitions, and can only be used in duels if both combatants agree, which isn't likely to happen unless they're both magicians."

"Very good, my lady. Tomorrow evening we shall begin with the rules of magical combat."

"You are going to teach me about magic?" The historian nodded. Morgana's heartbeat quickened. "May I ask you a question now? About magic?"

"What form of magic?"

"There are forms of magic?"

The gray tangle of Theodosius' eyebrows lifted. "Of course, Lady Morgana. There are the physical branches of magic, such as healing, battle magic, blood magic, potion-brewing, alchemy, meteorology and geology, curses and counter-curses, and so on; then there is mentalism: the art of scrying, mind-to-mind communication, compulsion, prophecy. What is your area of interest?"

Morgana was dismayed; her query wasn't related to any particular branch of magic, and she didn't even understand some of the words she had just heard. "I suppose I want to know . . . about the nature of magic itself."

"Ahh. That is a very complex subject, still shrouded in mystery after all these years. Alas, it would take more understanding than I possess to teach you about the nature of magic itself."

"But you must have known hundreds of sorcerers throughout your long life," Morgana persisted. "I wish to know whether it is possible for a sorcerer to give up practicing magic."

Theodosius frowned, deepening the wrinkles of his face more yet. "That would depend on what sort of sorcerer they are. Those who choose to practice magic can always choose a different path later, but those who are not sorcerers by their own choosing can never choose to be anything else."

Morgana sighed. It seemed to her that the old man was being deliberately cryptic, but she dared not be more specific; she didn't know if she could trust Theodosius, or if he would report on her to the king. "Thank you, historian." Frustrated, she turned and walked away.

As she picked her way through the narrow walkways between bookshelves toward the door, a young woman in a plain sky-blue gown stepped out of a gap between a bookshelf and a tall cabinet containing who knew what into her path. "Lady Morgana," she said nervously, curtseying.

"Yes. Who are you?" Morgana asked, not unkindly.

The young woman gulped. "Lady Amalla, my lady. We, um, met at last night's feast, but you probably don't remember me."

"Yes, I do. You're one of Lady Sirenia's friends. What do you want?" Amalla must want something, since she had approached Morgana and was talking to her even though she seemed very nervous, almost frightened.

"I, um, I wanted to introduce myself properly."

"We have already been introduced," Morgana said coolly.

Amalla's hazel eyes darted around as if searching for an escape, but she held her ground. "But I haven't had a chance to speak with you, and, um, I wanted to."

Morgana appraised the other girl through narrowed, slightly suspicious eyes. If she was going to befriend anyone in the court of Dagon she wasn't sure she wanted it to be someone so timid that she could easily be taken for a mute. She also found the girl's motives questionable. "Why?"

"Because I'd rather be your friend than Sirenia's," Amalla blurted with none of her usual hesitance. "I've followed her around for years because I thought she would probably be queen one day-"

"_That_ will never happen," Morgana snapped.

"Sirenia can, um, make life unpleasant for those who disagree with her . . . that's why I never pointed out that Prince Merlin doesn't, um, like her." Amalla wrung her hands as an expression of fear crossed her face. "If anyone could find a way around the prince not wanting her, it would be Sirenia. No one really stands up to her . . . until you came. That's why if there's anything I can do for you, I want to."

Morgana still didn't trust her, but rejecting her offer out of hand would be foolish. Lady Amalla might be useful later. "I shall tell you if there is. Good night."

###

That night Morgana ate dinner with Arthur and Merlin, who, to her surprise, showed up together, looking friendlier than she had ever seen them.

"So, Morgana, what have you been doing today? Brushing your hair?"

"No, Arthur," she answered haughtily, "I've been familiarizing myself with this place. The palace holds some beautiful artwork." Arthur's expression immediately took on a hint of boredom; he never had much interest in pretty things that served no useful purpose. Morgana shifted her attention to Merlin, who sat beside Arthur on the opposite side of the square table from her. "I was particularly interested in a carving depicting the birth of dragons. Do you know the one I'm talking about?"

"Yes."

"Freya told me that the man in the picture was a dragonlord, but she couldn't explain why he was there."

"Dragons hatch when a dragonlord names them. That's why the ones in this kingdom nest in a chain of mountains just a few miles outside the city."

"There are dragons _here_?" Arthur asked. His hand twitched, fingers itching to reach for the sword he wasn't wearing.

"No, their nesting place is miles from the capital," Merlin patiently repeated. "Of course they can fly here in minutes . . ."

"And is having them so close safe?"

Merlin laughed. "They're dragons, Arthur - there's nothing very _safe_ about them. But they don't hunt people unless someone's foolish enough to intrude on their territory. I didn't even ride out there until Kilgharrah called me."

"A dragon called you," Arthur said incredulously, "and you went to it? Do you have a death wish?"

"He's over five thousand years old, and very powerful - you don't ignore him. Anyway, he's my friend . . . sort of." Merlin tore off a chunk of bread and popped it in his mouth.

Morgana filled the sudden silence by telling the boys about her encounter with Lady Amalla in the library. "What do you think of her?" she asked Merlin when she had finished her tale.

"She's all right." After a short pause for thought he elaborated, "The Lady Amalla is very intelligent and observant enough that she knows most of what goes on in this court, but she's sort of-" He broke off, searching for the right word, and finally settled on, "Ineffective. She has a little magic but nothing special, and she's more of a follower than a leader. Not like you."

Morgana smiled. "Thank you, my lord." She made up her mind to speak with her would-be friend again as soon as possible; if she was a natural follower, Morgana would much rather the girl follow _her_ than Sirenia.

###

The next day Morgana sought out Amalla in the library - according to Merlin, that was where she spent most of her time. The girl was so engrossed in her reading that she failed to notice Morgana until she laid a hand on her shoulder; then she let out a startled squeak and jumped in her seat. "Relax, it's only me."

"Oh! Lady Morgana! I wasn't expecting . . ."

Morgana leaned over and closed Amalla's book. "I have thought of a way you could be helpful to me, if you're willing."

"Anything, my lady."

The younger lady's eagerness to please reminded Morgana of a dog she had once played with in the royal kennels of Camelot, until Uther had declared that a king's ward should not be crouching in the straw, letting dogs lick her face and put their paws on her fine dresses. She turned a chair so that it faced Amalla's, sat down and took both of her hands in a gesture of camaraderie. It seemed to work - though not expecting it, Amalla didn't pull away from Morgana's touch, and even seemed somewhat pleased. "There is a question I need answered. It's a private matter, so understand that if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone I will never forgive you for betraying my confidence."

Hazel eyes wide, Amalla nodded.

"I need to know if there is any way for a sorcerer to give up magic."

"Well, it depends on what kind of sorcerer we're talking about-"

Morgana sighed. "That historian who is supposed to be tutoring me said the same thing. The one question I asked him, and he was no help at all! I don't suppose you can at least tell me how many different types of sorcerers there are?"

"Only two, my lady: those who acquire magical skill through study and those who are born with it," Amalla said quickly, cringing at Morgana's sharp tone. "Of course all sorcerers are born with a degree of magical power, but there are some whose potential would never come to anything if they did not choose to further develop their mastery of magic. Then there are the ones to whom magic comes naturally - it's so much a part of who they are that not using it is impossible."

"I see. And which kind is Prince Merlin?"

"Um, from what I've heard magic comes as naturally to him as breathing - I think he first used it as a baby. Not that that's surprising; people say his mother had strong magic, but I don't know much about her. Queen Hunith died years ago . . . My lady, if I may ask . . . um, why are you asking me these things?"

"I only want to know more about the man I'm to marry. Since he has magic I felt I should try to understand it as well. Is that wrong?"

"N-no, of course not. But why do you, um, want to know if someone could . . . give up magic?" Amalla said the words as if they were something incredible, as if she couldn't understand why anyone would ever want to give up magic.

"It was just a case I heard my guardian mention some time ago. I can't recall the details," Morgana lied easily. However pliable her new ally might be, she wasn't foolish to tell any but her very closest confidant (Gwen) about her resolution to cure Merlin of his magic. "Although," she added slowly, frowning as if trying to call an elusive memory to mind, "now I think perhaps the sorcerer he told me about didn't choose to turn his back on his powers after all. I think I remember Uther saying he was stripped of them. Can that really be done?"

Amalla paled. "Stripping a sorcerer of their powers would require d-dark magic. Very dark. And, um, the sorcerer wouldn't survive. A person's magic is tied to their soul, and taking that away . . . even if they didn't die they would be damaged, um, badly. Lady Morgana, if you don't mind, can we, um, not talk about, um, Uther Pendragon's, um, experiments anymore, please?"

Morgana was disappointed but decided not to push the clearly terrified girl any further. "Of course. I'm sorry I upset you." Copying a tactic Gwen frequently used to comfort her after a nightmare, she held Amalla's hand and rubbed the back of it soothingly with her thumb.

Amalla gradually calmed down under her touch. Of course the tyrant Uther Pendragon was cruel enough to rip away someone's magic without caring what it did to them, but she couldn't fault Morgana for not understanding how brutal her guardian's actions were and being curious. Lady Morgana was so nice, and she was going to be queen. She could ask whatever questions she wanted.

"Well, I think I've taken up enough of your time." Morgana let Amalla's hand go and stood up. "I must go now, but I'm sure we shall see each other again soon."

Leaving the library, she started in the direction of her chambers, changed her mind and took a different turn. She didn't know where the corridor she was now walking down led, but as long as it was empty of other people she didn't care; what she wanted at the moment was to be alone, and to think. It had never occurred to her that losing his magic might hurt Merlin - hurting him was never her intention. _I have always been taught that magic is evil, that practicing sorcery will damn your soul forever, and I wanted to spare him that, but if Merlin cannot live without his magic . . . What am I to do? Should I kill him? Could I bring myself to do it if it will save him from a life of darkness and corruption?_

Finding a door in front of her, she automatically pushed it open and continued her aimless, restless wandering, which had just taken her out into the palace gardens.

"Lady Morgana!"

She had walked right past the subject of her thoughts. Merlin was kneeling beside the garden path, but when he saw Morgana he scrambled to his feet, casting a quick spell to remove dirt from the knees of his pants.

"Oh . . . Good day, my lord. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I'm picking some herbs for Edwin."

Merlin noticed that Morgana was very distracted, but she managed to focus on what he was saying. It seemed to cost her a lot of effort. "Why are you running the physician's errands?"

"I learn a lot from helping Edwin, so I don't mind. He doesn't like to go out much, because of the way people look at . . ." Merlin fingered his right cheek.

"How thoughtful of you," Morgana said, still in that tone that told Merlin her mind was somewhere else and she really didn't want to be here, talking with him.

"My lady, is something wrong?"

She forced a little laugh. "What could be wrong, my lord?"

As she looked at the man before her, Morgana's stomach felt as if it were turning itself inside out. Kind, caring Merlin, who did the work of someone meant to be working for him to spare Edwin the embarrassment of people looking askance at his scarred face, who was so genuinely pleased to see her - how could she ever raise a hand against him? How could she have entertained the notion for even a second? Whatever he was or was destined to be, Morgana suddenly realized that she could never willfully cause him any harm. If that meant she had to put up with him being a sorcerer, so be it.

"Lady Morgana, are you sure you're all right?"

Morgana insisted that she was "Fine, my lord," while cursing herself for letting her conflicted feelings show. Was her self-control slipping, or did Merlin just see through her that easily? "I'm sorry, I have to go." Turning back the way she had come, she all but ran away from him.

**So there we have the end of Morgana's half-baked plan to 'cure' Merlin of his magic, which I had to make happen because it's hard to write a love story if one half of your couple is plotting to do in the other. Plus Morgana realized she never wants to hurt Merlin under any circumstances and came a little closer to accepting him, sorcery and all. **


	23. Distractions

**Purpurea: As you're about to see in this chapter, Morgana has learned to take her nightmares seriously.**

**Squeegybug: Yeah, Morgana will be ****very**** horrified when she discovers her magic. I'm almost tempted to keep Sirenia around until the big reveal of Morgana's magic just so I can write her reaction. Arthur won't be the only non-magical one - he'll have Gwen to keep him company while Merlin and Morgana do magic together. **

"Lady Morgana!" Merlin knew she heard him; her steps faltered just for a moment, but she didn't turn back. If anything, she walked away faster. _Have I done something to upset her?_ he wondered. Nothing came to mind, but for whatever reason it was obvious she didn't want his company. Still, it seemed wrong to leave her alone at a time when his instincts were telling him she really needed a friend. _Maybe I should send Gwen to her._ The lady seemed very close to her maid - if she wouldn't confide what was troubling her to Merlin, she might be more open with Gwen. _"__I__nvenire __Guinevere__."_

A picture formed in his mind of the maid doing laundry; now that he knew her location he could contact her, tell her to go to her mistress . . . but he didn't. Gwen, he realized in the second before he sent his message to her, wasn't used to people magically speaking to her from a great distance. Hearing his voice in her head would frighten her, maybe even cause her to wonder if she was going mad.

He put down the herbs he had collected - Edwin could do without them for a little while longer - and went off to speak with Gwen in person.

###

Gwen found Morgana in her chambers, tracing the wood grain of the tabletop with her fingertip, eyes unfocused as she stared blankly ahead. The prince hadn't been wrong when he said she was troubled. "My lady?"

"Gwen, what are you doing here? Is it lunchtime already?"

"No, Prince Merlin said I should come see you. Did he do something?"

Morgana shook her head. "It's nothing he's done, Gwen. It's just him. I thought I could change him, cure him of his magic-"

"If there was a way to reform a sorcerer, don't you think Uther would have found it already?"

Morgana shrugged; Uther might have found something if he'd looked, but she doubted he had. Why go out of his way to help someone when chopping their head off was so much easier? She had been convinced she would find a better way - so sure that her cleverness and determination outstripped the old king's, that she could accomplish a task at which he had never succeeded. "It does not matter now. I've just learned that Merlin's magic is so much a part of him that he would die without it. Taking it away would put an end to him."

"Are you going to kill him then?" Gwen breathed, wide-eyed.

"No, harming him was never my purpose. I suppose I will just have to learn to live with him as he is, and hope for the best."

Gwen nodded sympathetically, understanding that that was going to be very hard for Morgana. She had never been good at accepting less than ideal circumstances; if there was anything she didn't like she was driven to try to change it, even when the odds were overwhelmingly against her. It was, in Gwen's opinion, one of her most admirable traits, but now it seemed more like a handicap. "Yes, I think that's for the b-"

A knock on the door cut Gwen off. Freya's voice called, "My lady? I've brought lunch."

Morgana composed herself at once. "Come in."

Freya entered with a tray bearing lunch for two - she had noticed that Morgana and Gwen ate together when the lady wasn't dining with Merlin and Arthur. They hadn't done this in Camelot because Uther wouldn't approve if he found out, but since she came to live in Dagon Morgana had realized she no longer had to hold herself to her guardian's rigid standards. Merlin's behavior certainly didn't always match what Uther would expect of a prince - he would keel over in shock if Arthur ever started doing chores for Gaius.

"Thank you, Freya. Would you like to join us?"

"No thank you, my lady. I'll eat with Will and Gwaine."

Morgana busied herself carving up her fish so Freya wouldn't see her grin as she remembered Gwaine's drunken mooning over the pretty witch. "Well, I won't keep you from your meal. You may go."

Freya curtsied, started to leave, then turned back and said, "Don't forget that at half-past three you have a meeting with the woman who'll be making your wedding dress."

"I'll see that she's on time," Gwen promised, rightly guessing from Morgana's expression that she had forgotten all about the dressmaker. This concerned Gwen deeply - Morgana must be extremely upset about Merlin if she wasn't even excited about getting a new dress.

###

Will and Gwaine were already waiting on the terrace when Freya arrived with their lunch. Gwaine's eyes lit up when he saw her . . . or maybe it was the food he was pleased to see. It was hard to tell with him.

"How's her highness?" Freya and Gwaine both cast sharp, scolding looks at Will, who raised his hands defensively. "I meant that in the most respectful way possible."

"You _should_ respect Lady Morgana," Gwaine muttered darkly, "especially if she happens to have a rock in her hand." Will and Freya looked curiously at him; Gwaine had never told them the full story of the second time he encountered Morgana. It was just too humiliating to admit that he'd been knocked out by a skinny noblewoman with no proper weaponry. "Never mind."

"The Lady Morgana's settling in well, and she seems pretty nice. If she has some sinister, seditious plot up her sleeve I haven't seen any evidence of it yet." Will hadn't said a word against Morgana or even Uther since returning from Camelot, but Freya doubted that he'd given up his suspicions about the king's ward so easily.

"That's good to know, but right now I have a bigger problem than Morgana."

"And what might that be?" Gwaine asked.

Will grimaced. "I have to get Merlin to a fitting for the new clothes the king says he has to have for the wedding, and he hates those. Either of you want to help me?"

"I would, but I need to launder some sheets," Freya said quickly; she'd had too much experience of how difficult Merlin could be when forced to do something he disliked to want any part of it. She kicked Gwaine under the table, trying to let him know he'd better come up with an excuse of his own.

Fortunately for him, he took the hint and said, "I have stables to muck out."

Will gave them both an aggrieved look. "You two," he complained, dropping a piece of carrot back into his soup and brandishing his spoon accusingly at his friends, "are about as much help as a leaky boat." He wolfed down the rest of his lunch and dashed off, intent on ensuring that his master was on time for the all-important fitting. Royal weddings, he decided, were more trouble than they were worth.

"What was that all about?" Gwaine wondered as he watched the tail of his friend's jacket whip out of sight.

"You've never tried to make Merlin do anything he doesn't want to, have you?"

"No . . ."

"Trust me, you're better off cleaning the stables."

###

Morgana arrived at the room where the dressmaker had set up shop promptly at half-past three, only to be told that the woman was still busy with her first appointment - the dressmaker, she learned, made more than dresses and had also been put in charge of Merlin's new outfit. She waited until the castle bells struck four o'clock and wondered what could be taking so long. Finally, just as she was about to leave and reschedule for tomorrow, the door opened and Merlin emerged, looking very put out and clutching his right arm.

"You're wounded!" Morgana exclaimed.

"If you call being jabbed with pins a wound." Morgana looked at him curiously, so Merlin elaborated, "Mistress Flora doesn't like fidgeting. I'm not that good at keeping still."

"Sounds awful," Morgana said sympathetically. "You poor thing."

Arthur came down the corridor just in time to overhear them. "'Poor thing'?" he repeated. "I've had much worse injuries than a few pinpricks, and you were never that nice to me!"

"What do you want, Arthur?"

"To ask Merlin if he wants to join me on a hunting trip tomorrow."

"You're going hunting tomorrow?"

"Yes, Merlin, that's what I just said."

"But why? We don't need any more meat."

"Procuring meat is not the point," Morgana told him. "Arthur hunts for fun - at least, I can only guess it's fun, since I've never gone along."

"Of course you haven't. You'd only be in the way," Arthur stated.

"And you wonder why I'm not nicer to you."

"I'm sorry," Merlin interjected, "I just can't see the fun in needlessly killing innocent animals."

Arthur gave him a disgusted look. "You are such a girl's petticoat, _Mer_lin."

"At least I'm not a cabbage-head, _Ar_thur."

"Why are you saying my name like that?" Morgana giggled. Arthur rounded on her. "Aren't you supposed to be looking at fabric for a new dress or something? Although I don't see why you need one - you already have a white dress."

"I am getting a new dress because it's my _wedding_, Arthur," Morgana said tartly. "One day you'll understand what an important occasion it is . . . if you can find a woman who'll have you." She yanked open the door of the workroom and flounced inside.

"Lady Morgana, is it?" At her affirmative nod the dressmaker said, "Well it's about time; I was starting to think I'd have to chase you down."

Privately, Morgana didn't think this woman had much chance of chasing her anywhere. Mistress Flora was middle-aged and so plump that her idea of her running was almost laughable, with a red, bulbous nose that hinted at a rather self-indulgent lifestyle. _Perhaps Merlin's friend Gwaine wouldn't drink so much if he knew that this is what it leads to._

"You're a pretty one. It will be a pleasure designing your wedding dress. Clothiers! Bring the fabric samples for the Lady Morgana to choose from!"

A team of the dressmaker's assistants poured in from an adjoining room and laid out an overwhelming array of every type of material imaginable, ranging from heavy brocaded silk and samite to delicate lace and gossamer as fine as a butterfly's wings, in every shade of white from subdued to dazzlingly bright. Then there were the jewels: pearls, diamonds, silver, white gold, even incredibly rare scales from a white dragon. Morgana was delighted. No one ever _told_ her what to wear (though Uther had insisted she have at least one dress in the Pendragon colors of red and gold; she had complied but made sure it was the most revealing item in her wardrobe) but she had never been presented with so many options before. Then again, this was the most important dress she would ever wear. She needed to choose the perfect cloth, the perfect design . . . everything had to be perfect. _This may take a while . . ._

###

"You seem in a better mood," Gwen remarked when she finally managed to drag Morgana and Mistress Flora apart. The two women appeared to be kindred spirits - or at least they were equally fond of elegant clothing.

"I was," Morgana agreed, "until you came to remind me that I still have my evening lesson with the historian. He is so dull! And he spends the entire time hovering over me, as if he thinks I can't comprehend what I'm reading without his help. It's quite irritating."

That night, however, Theodosius wandered off in search of a book brought to mind by his own incessant rambling, leaving Morgana alone for a spell. This should have pleased her, except that the book of laws he'd set her to reading was as boring as the man himself. Morgana struggled to stay focused, but the book was undeniably, slowly but surely, putting her to sleep. Resting her eyes for a minute couldn't hurt, she decided; they were getting sore from all the dust particles that floated into the air every time she turned a page. She propped her chin on one hand and closed her eyes . . .

Moments later, she jerked awake at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. She twisted wildly in her chair as she searched for her attacker - but it was only old Theodosius, his papery features crinkled in concern. "Are you quite all right, Lady Morgana?"

"Yes . . . yes, I'm fine. With your permission, I'd like to leave our lesson here tonight. I think I've done all I can."

"Of course. Perhaps you should lie down-"

"An excellent idea. I believe I will, thank you," Morgana lied. In truth she had no intention of lying down, and especially not of sleeping, any time soon. She returned to her chambers as fast as she could without actually running there - it wouldn't do for anyone to see her running through the castle like a madwoman - and burst through the door like a windstorm.

Gwen let out a startled yelp and knocked over the bucket of water she was using to wash the floor. "Morgana! What-?"

Morgana pulled Gwen to her feet, ignoring the mess. "Gwen, something terrible has happened. I fell asleep in the library-"

"I wouldn't call that terrible. It might be embarrassing if you drooled in your sleep, but you don't."

Morgana gave a little frustrated sigh. "No, Gwen, you don't understand. It was the first time in days that I've slept without taking my sleeping draft first, and I had the dream again."

"The one with the fire?"

"No, the one that made me seek treatment from Edwin Muirden in the first place."

Gwen nodded her understanding. "Oh, the one about being smothered. I'm so sorry." She tried to hug Morgana, but the lady held her at bay.

"There was more this time. I was suffocating, burning inside - it was like I was drowning in my own blood - and there was someone standing over me, watching me die. It's obvious what this nightmare means, Gwen. Someone in the castle is going to poison me."

Gwen's eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. It was almost comical, but Morgana was in no mood for laughter. "Who would do such a thing?"

"Amalla warned me that Sirenia can make life unpleasant for people who go against her."

"I'm sure she can, but _murder_-"

"She wants to be queen of Dagon," Morgana cut across her, "and she knows that won't happen while I live. People have murdered for less."

"I suppose." Gwen hated to think that anyone could be so power-hungry that they could snuff out a life without a thought, but she wasn't totally naïve; she had to admit Morgana had a point. "If you really think your life might be in danger, you have to tell the king."

"Tell the king what? That I had a nightmare? That hardly proves that a lady of the court is plotting murder."

"So what will you do?"

"First I'm going to speak to Lady Amalla."

###

Sirenia, Amalla said, wasn't known for poisoning people - if she wanted to get rid of someone she usually did so by spreading rumors about them, exposing their private vices; two ladies and one lord she'd quarreled with had already left court in shame. She was more than competent at brewing potions, though. A lot of people thought she had used a love potion last summer in a bid to seduce Lancelot; that incident was the source of Merlin's ill feelings toward her, but nobody had been able to obtain proof of her using illegal potions.

"She's never used anything, um, worse than a love potion, though," Amalla finished. "No poison."

"Thank you. Again, I apologize if I frightened you."

"Oh, that's all right. I'm not used to people, well, dragging me into alcoves. But I can, um-"

"Stop that," Morgana said forcefully but not unkindly. "If you've something to say, just say it. Don't hesitate."

Amalla laughed nervously. "I'll try, my lady. I was going to say, I can adjust."

"Well, I'll try not to make a habit of this." Morgana left the alcove, and came face to face with the Lady Sirenia herself. _Why is it,_ she wondered, _that today I have only to think of someone I'd rather _not_ see at present, and they appear? If this is an effect of living in a place of magic, I don't like it. If it is a string of coincidences, they're damn annoying._

"Lady Morgana." Sirenia gave her a fake polite smile, which became a sneer when she spotted Amalla. "Look what crawled out of the library."

Amalla's face turned pink. "Leave her alone, you spiteful witch!" Morgana snapped.

"Was that meant to insult me? If so it was a poor attempt - I'm proud to be a witch. But you see magic as a curse, a disease, just like your guardian, don't you? Uther must be so proud. How long did it take him to mold your mind to mirror his own?"

"You know nothing about me," Morgana hissed, "or my mind, or what I believe. Don't pretend you do."

"That's fair enough. Maybe Uther hasn't molded your mind at all. Perhaps the rotten apple just didn't fall far from the tree."

Morgana raised one dark eyebrow. "Name-calling now, are we? I could play that game with you, but that's hardly fitting behavior for a future queen, is it? Come along, Amalla."

This time Morgana was the one to walk away with her follower in tow and Sirenia was left to fume, and swear that she would find a way to rid herself of that arrogant, self-righteous Pendragon tart.

**Despite my best efforts, the OCs somehow slipped in again. I guarantee that the next chapter will be OC-free. **

**Morgana: Oh good, this story's looking up. **

**Me: But you still get poisoned. **

**Morgana: I hate you. **


	24. The Viper's Nest

**Pineapple-Sorceress: You need more, well here it is. I'm sorry I couldn't deliver it at flying-squirrel-on-crack speed, but then I've never seen a flying squirrel on crack so I don't know how fast they are. So maybe I am that fast after all!**

**Warnings: chapter includes Gwaine being a slacker, Morgana plotting and getting poisoned, the psycho ramblings of a villain, and Merlin and Arthur (off-screen) being happily oblivious to it all. **

"Arthur will be out of the castle most of the day," Gwen remarked as she helped Morgana dress. "I suppose you'll be glad not to have to deal with him for a while."

Gwen was right about that, but Morgana was still a little annoyed that Arthur had managed to slip away without her knowledge. He might call himself her chaperone, but she actually kept a closer watch on him than he did on her. "Where has he gone?"

"He's going to teach Merlin to enjoy hunting."

"Yesterday I heard him say he wanted to go hunting, but I didn't think Merlin was interested in joining him."

"He wasn't," Freya said, "but I told him he might as well go so that Prince Arthur would leave him alone about it."

It had been mid- or late-afternoon when Arthur suggested that Merlin accompany him on his hunting trip, so he must have told Freya about it later, in the evening perhaps . . . or even that night? _What reason does she have for seeing him at such a late hour? It had better not be the one I'm thinking of!_ Morgana had never seriously credited the notion that there might be something between her maid and her fiancé because such a thing was not very likely to happen in Camelot - noblemen might use a pretty serving girl as a diversion for one night, but an ongoing affair was out of the question. As she had often noted, though, things were different here. "And the prince acts on your advice?" she asked, suspicion sharpening her tone.

Freya looked up from the pillows she was arranging on Morgana's bed, blinking her dark doe eyes. "He takes advice from friends, yes." Morgana studied her intently, searching for any sign that Freya was taunting her by calling herself Merlin's friend and finding none; though the witch met her probing stare unflinchingly, there was no insolence or defiance in her gaze, nor in her voice when she asked, "Yes, my lady? Is there something you need?"

"No, that will be all. After you finish making my bed you may go. You too, Gwen - I'm giving you both the afternoon off."

"You're very generous, my lady." Freya put the last of the pillows in place, checked that all wrinkles were smoothed out of the bedcovers, curtsied, and left.

"What are you going to do here all by yourself, Morgana?" Gwen asked.

Morgana shrugged. Her friend's concern was touching, but she didn't want Gwen thinking she had to hang about all day just to keep her company. Morgana did not require constant companionship. "Don't worry about me, Gwen. I think I'll go for a ride."

###

Gwaine was having a wonderful day. Prince Prat (as he'd secretly nicknamed Arthur) had said he wasn't coming back until he'd killed something, but Gwaine knew Merlin planned to warn away all the animals whose minds he could touch from the hunters - meaning they were likely to be gone for some while. This meant Gwaine had fewer horses to tend, at least until Merlin, Arthur, and the knights who had gone with them returned. Then he would have double his normal workload what with all their sweaty horses needing to be groomed and their tack needing to be cleaned, but in the meantime he was determined to make the most of his free hours.

He had just settled down for a nap in the hay when a throat was cleared almost directly above him, letting him know he'd been caught. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and saw the Lady Morgana standing there, grinning. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

Gwaine groaned and allowed his head to flop back into the straw. "I've a feeling you're about to, my lady."

"I only want you to saddle my horse, and then you can get back to loafing."

_Loafing?_ Gwaine almost protested, but the memory of Morgana's knee catching him in a very sensitive place kept his lips sealed. Besides, he realized it wasn't an inaccurate term for what he'd been doing. He got up slowly; he didn't want the lady to think he was one of those bootlickers who would jump to do her bidding.

She followed him as he trudged to where Justinia was stabled, lifting her blue skirts so they wouldn't be soiled on the dusty, hay-strewn floor. "I'm surprised Merlin didn't take you with him today."

Gwaine's spine stiffened slightly; he hadn't expected her to speak to him and wasn't sure he wanted to have a conversation with her. Now that she had opened one it would be rude not to reply, and being rude to the future queen was unwise. "Why should he?"

"You're his friend." Her voice held a note of skepticism, or perhaps inquisitiveness.

"So are Will, Freya, Lancelot, and even that physician who hardly ever leaves his quarters, but you don't see him dragging all of them after him everywhere he goes," he said curtly.

"You're an odd bunch of friends for a future king," Morgana remarked, trying to prod Gwaine into saying more.

He settled the saddle on Justinia's back and turned to face her. "If you're so curious about Merlin's friends, why don't you ask him?"

"I am asking you."

_And of course I can't refuse Your High-and-Mightiness anything._ Gwaine gritted his teeth. "There isn't much to tell - Will's parents work here so he and Merlin grew up together, he and Lancelot trained together, the physician tutors him, I met him in the tavern one night when he came in to drink a toast to a knight who'd gotten engaged and later he found me this job, and he brought Freya here."

Morgana's eyebrows shot up. "He brought her here? Where from, and why?"

Gwaine shrugged. "It was before I came to Dagon. All I know is that a year or two ago Merlin rode out to meet with the captain of the border patrol and came back with her. He's looked after her ever since."

"Looked after her in what way?"

"He found work for her. Makes sure all the lads keep their hands off, too, you know."

Morgana was confused. Gwaine's last statement made it seem that Merlin wanted to keep Freya to himself, yet he hadn't shown any possessiveness when Gwaine expressed feelings for her. "If he was concerned for her welfare he could have found her a well-to-do husband," she mused. "Perhaps he means for the two of you to get married?" She certainly wouldn't mind seeing Freya married off to the horse trainer.

"Merlin isn't like that!" Gwaine snapped. "He doesn't treat people like his playthings just because they're not rich and powerful like him; he's honorable and kind. You don't know how lucky you are." Morgana's face reflected pure astonishment, and Gwaine realized it was probably the first time in her life that she'd been told off by a commoner. He also realized he was likely to end up in the stocks, or the dungeon, for daring to speak so disrespectfully to one of his 'betters'. _Ah well, it was worth it. She needs to get her head straightened out if Merlin's going to be stuck with her._ He faced her defiantly, waiting for her to call the guards.

Instead she merely cocked her head, studying him as though fascinated. "Very loyal, aren't you?"

Gwaine's chest puffed out with pride. "To Merlin, yes. He and the king might be nobles, but I don't mind serving men like them."

The lady's head dipped in a slow nod. "I did not mean to offend you by speaking ill of your friend. I don't want to insult Merlin, only to know him better. Forgive me."

"All right." He turned around and began coaxing Justinia to accept her bit.

She wanted to push on, talk him into pursuing Freya more aggressively - a more attainable suitor might be just what the witch needed to break off whatever was going on between her and Merlin - but she realized Gwaine wasn't in a frame of mind to take suggestions from her. It seemed he disliked the nobility in general, and Morgana in particular seemed to be setting his nerves on a knife's edge. _Now is the time to step back and smooth things over, not push forward. _"I hope you can also forgive me for wounding you," Morgana continued, putting on her best contrite expression. "I'm sorry to have done it."

"Well, no lasting harm done, right, my lady?" He flashed her a cocky grin which Morgana took to mean she had at least made a start at winning him over.

Gwaine held her horse while she mounted and then stayed outside to watch as she rode away, his desire for a nap having vanished. The Lady Morgana, he decided, was nosy, but she had been nice in her own way. She had even apologized for attacking him. _Took her a while . . . but she didn't have to do it at all, and she sounded like she was really sorry. She might be one of the good ones after all._ And her beauty and intelligence reminded him of Freya - a more dangerous version of her. He didn't believe for a moment that Morgana was harmless; there was a sort of innocent guilelessness in Freya that Morgana lacked. But then, so did Merlin. No one could grow up in the viper's nest of a royal court and retain their innocence for long. Gwaine sighed and went back into the stables. He was a thousand times better off there than in any palace.

###

After her ride Morgana spent some time exploring her new home; the place was huge, and she still hadn't seen all of it. Edwin Muirden interrupted her attempt to remedy that, appearing so suddenly that she wondered if he'd used an invisibility spell to move about unseen and bowing low before her. "Might I beg a moment of your time, my lady?"

"Of course. What do you need?"

"Merely to assure myself that I am serving my lady well. How have you fared since I began preparing your sleeping drafts?"

"Very well. Every night I've taken it I have slept like the dead."

"And you awaken feeling refreshed? Your sleep is restful?" As he spoke Edwin took Morgana's arm and walked along the corridor with her. She allowed him to guide her, paying more attention to his questions and her replies than to where they were going, until they reached an old workroom that was now empty of everything save a dusty, splintery table. Edwin released Morgana and closed the door. "Yes, this will do nicely."

"Beg pardon?"

_"__C__orporis __vinculis __ligari __sicut__!"_

Morgana froze as if bound from head to foot in invisible chains. "What is the meaning of this? Let me go!"

"I am sorry, my lady, but I cannot." Ignoring her fruitless struggles, he cast another spell to levitate her and lay her out on the table.

"I demand that you release me immediately." A small tremor crept into her voice as it dawned on her that she might be in real trouble; she was alone with a man who was forcibly restraining her and powerless against his magic. She drew air for a scream, but before she could let it out Edwin cast a silencing spell on the room.

"Now no one will hear you. Even without the spell, people don't come and go in this part of the castle often."

Morgana screamed anyway, and struggled more violently than ever against her magical bonds when Edwin pulled a knife from the pocket of his robe. The blade was short, but a physician would know where to stick it to cause the most damage. He didn't stab her, though. Instead he turned her hands over and made shallow cuts on both her palms. "What are you doing?"

He pulled a dark, blood-red, fist-sized rock and two smaller rocks of the same color out of another pocket. "These are bloodstones. Harmless to hold in your hand-" he held one up for her to see "-unless you happen to have a wound there. These little beauties are highly poisonous when they come in contact with blood." He placed one of the small stones in each of Morgana's hands, curling her fingers around them so they were held securely against her cut palms. Then, holding the larger stone up in front of his face, he whispered, _"I__nficere __sanguine__."_

The tip of the stone began turning black, and so did its smaller duplicates. Morgana's hands began to hurt terribly; looking down, she was horrified to see that her blood had also turned black where it touched the stones, and the blackness - as well as the pain - was starting to spread through her veins. She tried to hurl the bloodstones away, but her paralyzed fingers refused to let go of them. She looked up at the physician, who was watching with a hint of a satisfied smile, and whispered, "Why?"

"Uther Pendragon murdered my parents. These scars that horrify all who see my face so much and force me to live as a recluse were acquired trying to rescue them from the flames."

"So you would murder me, even though your parents' deaths were not my doing?"

"The only one I wish to see pay for Uther's crimes is Uther himself. I saw Prince Merlin's power, and it gave me hope that he would be the one to bring him to justice . . . but then the war ended. And Uther still lives."

"You want Dagon and Camelot to go to war once more." Morgana could not comprehend such obsessive hatred. She knew that as court physician Edwin would have seen the toll war took in human lives, yet he was still willing to plunge both kingdoms back into violence and bloodshed just to force Merlin to be the instrument of his revenge.

"Yes. Uther won't keep the peace for long once he learns that his beloved ward has suffered a horrible death by magic, will he? You will be a martyr to a great cause - the end of the Pendragon dynasty at the hands of Emrys!" He leaned down and patted her cheek. "I hope this comforts you."

"Please, you don't have to do this." More quietly, Morgana added, "I don't want to die."

"I see, you are worried about the pain." Edwin sighed. "I cannot deny that it will be excruciating, but it will all be over in a few hours' time. Farewell, Lady Morgana." He magically sealed the door behind him when he left.

Left alone with no distraction from the burning poison that had completely consumed both hands and was now creeping up her arms, Morgana screamed again - in pain, and in frustration at her own helplessness. Then her frustration was replaced with fear as she realized that Gwen and Freya wouldn't miss her until they delivered dinner to her chambers; Merlin and Arthur were gone. There was no one to save her, and she was going to die alone.

**Hands up, who's surprised by this twist? If you thought for sure it would be Sirenia attacking Morgana, then I've done my job right. If you knew all along it would be Edwin, congratulations.**

**Next chapter: the princes bond, the maids save the day, and Merlin's inner badass comes out to play. **


	25. A Friend Gained, a Friend Lost

**Warning: this chapter has one of those exploding villains this show is so fond of (seriously, I challenge you to count how many bad guys have been blown up) except my version of exploding villains has significantly more gore. Because if a human body exploded, it would not be tidy and bloodless.**

Wanting to take full advantage of her day off, Gwen ventured out of the palace into the marketplace and spent some of her wages on a bolt of yellow cloth patterned with little pink and violet pastel flowers; it struck her as sweet and cheerful, and it would make a fine dress. There might even be enough left over for one or two small embellishments for her other dresses. A new vest or sash to wear with her lavender dress would be nice.

She returned to Morgana's chambers to put her purchase in her room, and of course noticed that her mistress wasn't there. The lady's absence meant nothing to her until she passed the stables, saw Gwaine combing Justinia's mane, and was informed by him that Morgana had returned from her ride a good two hours ago. Nobody Gwen spoke to had seen her since. That struck the maid as odd - Morgana was usually anything but inconspicuous. _Perhaps she's gone off by herself somewhere,_ Gwen thought. Morgana had had her private places in the palace of Camelot, secret places she went to where no one except Gwen could find her. It drove Arthur mad. _But she doesn't know this castle well enough to have a hideaway here . . . so maybe she's spending time with someone else. _

It wasn't until she was out in the gardens, picking some flowers that she thought would brighten Morgana's chambers beautifully, that realization of a flaw in her logic came down on her with all the force of the anvils in her father's forge. The only people in Dagon that Morgana liked well enough that she would voluntarily spend her time with them were Arthur, Merlin, and Gwen herself. The first two were gone and she obviously wasn't with Gwen; therefore Morgana was not spending her afternoon with a friend. But with an enemy . . .? She'd _told_ Gwen that she was afraid someone was plotting against her - if you wanted to murder someone, what better time to strike than when they were alone, when circumstances had conspired to put everyone who might come to their aid elsewhere?

Gwen dropped her flowers and ran back into the palace; Morgana's life might be in danger, but she couldn't save her on her own.

###

"Maybe we should just go home," Merlin suggested. "Doesn't seem to be any prey out today."

"We saw a unicorn," Arthur reminded him, "but _someone_ wouldn't let me shoot it."

"Because unicorns are creatures of magic; the legends say that if you kill one you'll be cursed forever."

"Legends," Arthur scoffed. "So you don't actually know if killing a unicorn would trigger a curse."

"No, because no one's ever been stupid enough to try it."

"Well, there must be some animals somewhere that won't curse us if we kill them."

"I don't think it's the unicorns themselves that cast the curse-" Merlin stopped talking when he realized Arthur wasn't listening. This was nothing new - he guessed Arthur only listened to him in about half their conversations. Actually, he thought it might be less than half.

"Sire?" As Arthur's long strides took him slightly ahead of Merlin, Lancelot approached him from behind. "Maybe you should just let him find something to shoot at," he said in a low voice that only reached Merlin's ears. "He seems very determined."

Merlin agreed; warning off any potential prey annoyed Arthur very much, and at first it had been fun watching him get frustrated when he wasn't able to impress the men from Dagon with his 'legendary' hunting skills, but now Merlin had had enough. The next time he sensed an animal nearby, he let it come to them.

_It_ turned out to be a thick-skinned, bad-tempered wild boar. Arthur's arrow didn't bring it down, or even wound it as far as Merlin could see; it did, however, make it angry. As the boar charged, Merlin sent a large rock flying at its head. The boar let out an enraged squeal, changed direction so fast its hooves threw up little clouds of dirt and dead leaves as they skidded on the forest floor, and ran at Merlin, its tusks aimed so that they would gouge deep into his stomach if it reached him...and the warlock didn't know what to do. Throwing the biggest rock he could find at the beast hadn't even slowed it, and of course he had no weapons since he hadn't planned on killing anything.

Arthur snatched up a spear and leapt at Merlin, knocking him out of the way seconds before the boar closed with him, and thrust his weapon down into the animal's skull with such force that the point poked out through the bottom of its jaw. The boar died instantly, but the momentum of its charge was such that Arthur was barely able to stand against it. In the end, though, he was still on his feet, and Merlin wasn't. He was proud of that. Deciding to be magnanimous, he gave him a hand up.

The knights swarmed in like a cloud of hornets to check the princes for injuries, but Merlin ignored them; his piercing blue gaze was fixed on Arthur. "You saved my life."

Arthur chose to disregard his slightly insulting tone of surprise; Merlin might have magic, and he might be . . . well, _Merlin_, but now that they were getting to know one another Arthur didn't want him dead. "Now we're even."

"Even?"

"Yes, you stopped that witch stabbing me at the feast on your first night in Camelot." _I hope he didn't hit his head - he might become even more of an idiot._

"And I healed you before that - you still owe me one."

"That doesn't count since I was wounded by your dragon in the first place. We're even," Arthur insisted.

"Well, if you consider that my father was the one who brought the dragons into our war and you were the one who killed-"

"Merlin," Arthur exclaimed in exasperation, "if you talk me to death you'll owe me-" he paused to calculate what dying at the hands of an overly loquacious sorcerer was worth "-five."

"You'll owe me more than that if your mad ideas of how to have fun get me killed," Merlin retorted. "Next time we'll do what _I_ want."

"So we'll be embroidering? Isn't that what girls like to do?"

Merlin didn't rise to the bait. "No, I'm going to show you our library."

Arthur groaned; Camelot's royal library had never been one of his favorite places, and he was sure Dagon's would be the same: quiet and dusty, with no action to be found anywhere.

"Don't worry, I'll find you a book with simple words and lots of pictures."

"Shut up, Merlin."

"Come on, even you can make sense of a picture book."

"No, really, shut up." Arthur's demeanor had changed from teasing to tense. "Something's coming."

He and the knights readied their weapons; Merlin closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, using his magic to sense the nature of whatever was headed their way. "Just a couple of riders," he announced. There were sighs of relief as the others lowered their bows and spears. "Lancelot, will you go to where we left Will and Cedric and get them to bring our horses? The riders may have been sent to fetch us for some reason. We should be prepared to go."

"Yes, sire."

While they waited for Lancelot to return with their manservants and horses, two bay mares arrived bearing Gwen and Freya. "Thank God we've found you!" Gwen swung down from her saddle before her horse had completely stopped, stumbled and started to fall.

Merlin and Arthur caught her. "What's wrong?"

"It's Morgana," Gwen breathlessly explained. "Yesterday she told me she was afraid someone in the castle was plotting against her, and now we can't find her anywhere!"

"That's not exactly true." Taking over the narrative, Freya continued, "Gwen came to me when she realized Lady Morgana was missing and I tried a spell to locate her, but it wouldn't narrow down any further than the northwest wing on the second level; something blocked it. If someone's attacking her - and I think they must be, else why would they cast a spell keeping anyone from getting to her - their magic is stronger than mine."

"This doesn't make any sense!" Arthur burst out. "If Morgana thought she might be in danger, why didn't she tell me about it?"

"What does it matter?" Gwen demanded. "All that's important right now is finding Morgana before it's too late!"

"Don't worry, Gwen, I'll find her."

"_We'll_ find her. Morgana is my oldest and dearest friend - I'm going to help save her."

"I'm returning to the castle by magic. You want to come with me?"

Gwen gulped. No, she did not want to go anywhere by magic, but she knew Morgana would do it for her if she was the one in trouble, so she forced herself not to shrink back from the sorcerer's challenge. "Yes."

"Me too," Arthur said quickly. Merlin and Gwen both looked at him. "What? If you're going to fight an evil sorcerer you'll need my help."

###

Following Freya's advice, Merlin transported himself, Arthur, and Gwen to the northwest wing of the second floor. The three searched every room in that wing until Gwen found a door that wouldn't open and called Arthur over to help her. "It must have been magically barricaded," he decided when his best efforts failed to budge the door an inch. "Merlin!"

He stuck his head out of a door further up the corridor. "What?"

"Gwen and I found a door we can't open. You want to give it a try?"

Merlin came over and examined the door. "There's a magical seal on it. Stand back." He gave Arthur and Gwen time to get clear, then focused his power on the obstacle standing in his way and _pushed_. The door was blasted off its hinges and shattered into fragments of wood and iron before it hit the floor. The would-be rescuers trampled the debris as they rushed inside, having already recognized the royal blue gown and dark, wavy hair of the figure stretched out on a table as if she already lay in state, but Morgana was still alive . . . if only barely.

Her blackened, distended veins stood out shockingly against her pale skin, poisoned blood had seeped into the whites of her eyes and dripped from her nose, and every breath she took rasped as she strained to suck air into her lungs. By rights she should be dead; Merlin didn't know how she'd managed to hold on so long, but she couldn't keep it up much longer. She should be put out of her misery. "_Caperent __eius __in __momentum__._ That'll keep the poison from spreading until I can counteract it."

"What do you need? I can fetch medicine," Gwen offered.

"Medicine won't do any good."

"We have to do something!" Arthur said urgently.

"She's been poisoned by dark magic. We can't reverse it without the vessel that was used to curse her."

"So what kind of vessel are we looking for?"

"Probably a bloodstone from the look of her veins."

"Where do we find a bloodstone?"

"Odds are it's with the sorcerer who wants to kill Morgana."

"Why would he keep it?" Gwen asked. "It could incriminate him if it was found on him, so I would think he'd want to get rid of it."

"He probably intended to after she died; until then he'd keep it so he could be sure his curse was working. By now he should know something's gone wrong, so all we need to do is wait for him to come and check on her."

"Are you sure? What if he doesn't?"

"Whoever did this put a lot of effort into this plan - bloodstones aren't easy to come by. If you were him you wouldn't let anything mess it up, would you?"

"I don't know!" Gwen nearly shouted. "I've never plotted to murder anyone!"

Arthur glanced down at Morgana, frozen in time by Merlin's spell. She wasn't making those awful rattling gasps anymore, but her face was twisted in pain. "This plan had better work, Merlin."

"It will. Trust me, Arthur."

"I do trust you. God help me."

###

Ten minutes later they heard rapid footsteps approaching. Gwen pressed back against the table, determined not to let the assassin get at Morgana again, Arthur flipped the hilt of his hunting knife into his hand, and Merlin gathered his magic in preparation for a magical duel . . . only to have his focus blasted away by sheer disbelief when Edwin appeared in the doorway. "You! Edwin . . . What is this?"

Arthur thumped him on the back of the head and hissed, "What does it look like, _Mer_lin? He's the assassin!"

"No. Edwin, tell him this is all a mistake!"

"Indeed, sire, there has been a grievous mistake - made by your father when he agreed to an alliance with _him_!" Edwin pointed an accusing finger at Arthur. "Don't you see that the Pendragons must be made to pay for their crimes against our kind? It is your destiny to purge them from the land as they have done to us for years - as Uther did to my parents! Who else has the power to redress these wrongs?"

Merlin could only gape at him. The man who had taught him so much about healing and magic, who had been a trusted member of court and a friend, had become a raving madman. He had to be stopped of course, yet Merlin couldn't attack his friend.

Arthur didn't share his conflicted feelings; to him Edwin was only the man trying to kill his sister. He charged forward, swinging his knife at the physician's throat. Edwin caught him in an entrapment spell that stopped him in midstride and granted the sorcerer control over his movements. Slowly, Edwin twisted Arthur's wrist until the knife was pointed at his own throat. Then he bent his elbow, bringing the blade closer to its mark as Arthur struggled against the spell.

"Merlin," Gwen screamed, "do something!"

Her words finally pierced Merlin's paralyzing indecision. Edwin's years of loyal service and friendship no longer mattered, except that they made it harder to do what must be done. Edwin was a traitor; he was going to kill innocent people, people Merlin had come to care for. He wanted to destroy the peace between Dagon and Camelot. That could not be allowed to happen. Merlin's magic latched onto his anger at Edwin's betrayal and fed on it until it poured out in a tidal wave of destructive power.

This had happened only once before in his life, after his mother was killed. When her body was brought back to the castle and he had been made to understand that she was gone forever, little five-year-old Merlin had shattered every window in the great throne room and ripped up all the flagstones from the floor, lashing out at everything around him because he lacked a specific target. This time he had one. He hadn't been able to do anything for Hunith, but he could save Morgana and Arthur.

In the last moment of his life Edwin realized he had achieved his goal - he had pushed Emrys to act, just not in the way he'd intended. He tried to shield himself, but his magic was no match for Merlin's. He was crushed, the skin flensed from his bones, his blood and chunks of meat that were barely recognizable as the ruined insides of a man sprayed everywhere.

Merlin retrieved the bloodstone from the mess of Edwin's remains, noting that it was almost completely black - the curse had nearly run its course. He returned to Morgana, oblivious to Gwen scrambling out of his way. When he undid the spell holding her in stasis, her eyes met his and for a split second he saw recognition and relief there as his counter-curse voided the magical poison in her veins; then her eyes rolled back in her head as she fainted.

At least she hadn't seen what he had done to Edwin - Arthur and Gwen staring nervously, maybe even fearfully, at him was bad enough. Then Arthur remembered that he was the son of Uther Pendragon, a man feared by all sorcerers, and he was only facing Merlin. He had faced Merlin in battle several times without being afraid of him and didn't intend to start now. Still clutching his knife (he may not be afraid, but that didn't mean he wasn't cautious), he took a step forward. "How is Morgana?"

"She'll be fine once she's had time to rest. You should probably take her to her chambers."

"Aren't you going . . . to . . .?" But Merlin was already gone.

Gwen for one didn't seem sorry to see him go. "Come on sire, you'll have to carry her," she said crisply. "Wherever he's got off to, Morgana needs us more right now." Arthur knew she was right, so he pushed Merlin from his thoughts and turned his attention to helping her with Morgana.

**For those of you wondering why Merlin never went all mega-destroyer on Arthur when they were at war, I do have an explanation which will be revealed in the next chapter. And now that you know Morgana will be OK I hope you can spare a minute for a public service announcement from yours truly. Please read on:**

**I recently received a letter from PETA about cats and dogs - the same animals we keep as ****pets**** - being slaughtered to provide fur for clothing. And I'm not talking about humane killing either; they're subjected to torture that would turn the stomach of anyone who cares at all about other living beings, including skinning them ****alive****, and they aren't all old animals that would soon die naturally anyway - this is happening to puppies and kittens. The fur harvested this way is then labeled as 'Asian jackal' or 'rabbit' so consumers are kept ignorant of what they're unwittingly participating in when they buy fur products. I know not everyone is able to contribute financially to organizations like PETA that fight this abominable cruelty so I'm not asking you to donate to them, but next time you're out shopping and you see something cute with fur on it, please think of the cat or dog that might have suffered and died horribly to make it and DON'T buy it. And if the store has a system for receiving customer complaints, please tell them you don't approve of them carrying such products. They will listen if they start losing business. This depraved practice has to be stopped, and the only way that's guaranteed to happen is if there's no longer a market for animal fur. Also, please spread the word to your friends and family - doing so might save a life.**


	26. In the Wake of Violence

**Sorry for the lateness of this update; I've been suffering from a lack of inspiration and general busy-ness - we're building a barn.**

**Warning: everyone's favorite OC is back in this chapter. Yes, I'm talking about Sirenia, and she's still a bitch. Also, there's a heart-to-heart between Morgana and Prince Prat - I mean Arthur.**

The sunlight looked wrong. Morgana thought it should be midmorning or perhaps noon, yet judging by the light coming through her window it appeared to be just after dawn. It gave her a disconcerting feeling that a long stretch of time had passed without her knowledge, a feeling that was further compounded when she realized she was in her bed, wearing a nightgown. She couldn't remember putting on that gown or getting into bed; she had no memory of returning to her chambers at all. _Perhaps Gwen can explain how I got here._

"Gwen?" Her voice emerged as a croaky whisper. Sucking up what little saliva there was in her dry mouth, Morgana swallowed and tried again. "Gwen!"

Her friend hurried over, breaking into a wide smile when she saw that Morgana was awake. Before she could get a word out, Gwen hugged her as if she hadn't seen her in months. "Morgana! It's such a relief to have you back - awake, I mean, you've been here all along, just asleep. And you're looking so much better . . . Oh! You must be starving since you missed dinner. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Water," Morgana said hoarsely. "Please." Gwen hoisted her into a sitting position, rearranged her pillows so she could lean on them, poured her a cup of water, and steadied her hand while she drank. Morgana was dismayed to find that she needed help to hold the cup, but pleased that she could speak normally again after moistening her throat. "What happened? My last memory is of being poisoned - by the physician! I need to report him." She tried to get up.

Gwen held her down. "No, my lady, you need rest. He's been . . . taken care of."

Morgana fell back into her pillows, exhausted by the short struggle. "Did Merlin catch him? I think I saw him there. After that . . ." She shook her head. "Nothing."

Something tightened in Gwen's face at the mention of Merlin. "Yes," she said shortly. "I haven't seen him since. Arthur and I brought you here, and you slept the rest of yesterday and all last night."

"That long? Why do I feel so weak when I can't remember the last time I slept through the night without a sleeping draft, let alone all night and half a day?"

"Edwin's poison nearly killed you; no one expected you to wake so soon. I'm sure your strength will return before long," Gwen reassured her, stroking her arm comfortingly. "If you'll be all right alone, I should go tell the king you're awake. Or I could fetch Freya. She sat with you last night while I slept, so I think she's resting now, but I-"

"Then we shouldn't disturb her. I don't need fussing over, Gwen." Morgana silently cursed Edwin Muirden to the darkest depths of hell. He had caused her pain the likes of which she'd never known, almost ended her life, and reduced her to a pitifully weakened state, all because she'd had the misfortune to be adopted by Uther Pendragon. She hoped she would recover in time to attend his trial and execution. She usually tried to avoid such events, but she would make an exception for him; unlike many of the people she had seen Uther kill, the traitorous physician deserved whatever punishment he received.

Gwen's return jarred her out of her angry thoughts. "Are you feeling well enough for a visitor? The king is here to see you."

Morgana sat up straighter. If anyone came to visit her during her convalescence, she would not have expected it to be him. She had only spoken to Merlin's father twice, and briefly at that, so why was he here now? Why had he chosen to drop in on her when she was clearly not at her best? "King Balinor? Not Merlin or Arthur?"

"No, my lady, I'm quite sure it isn't Merlin or Arthur unless one of them grew a beard overnight."

"Well, I suppose you'd better send him in." She couldn't refuse to see the king, no matter how inconveniently timed his visit. Perhaps he had come to offer a royal apology since her assailant had been a trusted member of his court.

"My lady." He bowed slightly and then stood there looking uncomfortable, at a loss for what to do next.

"Would you care to sit, your majesty?" She glanced at Gwen, silently signaling that she should pull up a chair.

Balinor didn't wait for a chair, though; he simply sat on the edge of her bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I can't complain, sire - I'm alive after all."

Balinor nodded, feeling new respect for the girl before him. Lady Morgana had already shown that she possessed grace, charm, impeccable manners (in short, she was everything a noblewoman should be) and, while there was no proven method for measuring intelligence, she didn't seem to be a simpering fool, for which Balinor was grateful; though confident of his son's ability to rule with or without assistance from his wife, he wouldn't want Merlin saddled with a useless queen. Now he was sure Morgana was far from useless - no weakling could have survived the curse used on her, so there had to be a strong, determined young woman behind that pretty face.

"May I ask if the physician's trial and sentencing has already been carried out? If not, I would like to be there."

"There won't be a trial."

"Why not?" Morgana asked hotly. "Edwin Muirden tried to murder me-"

"And he's already suffered the consequences. Your maid witnessed the incident, but I suppose she hasn't spoken to you about it. I can't say I blame her; it was an ugly business."

Morgana looked over at Gwen, who had busied herself with some small, unnecessary task so as not to give the appearance of eavesdropping. "No, Gwen's told me very little, and my own memories are scattered at best."

"Well, Merlin needed the bloodstone Edwin cursed you with, and he didn't hand it over willingly. They fought, and he was killed."

"Merlin killed someone in a fight?" She had trouble picturing it.

"To save you and Prince Arthur, yes, he did."

"Arthur?" Morgana hadn't even known Arthur was there, much less that he'd been in any danger.

"Edwin attacked him as well once he realized he'd been caught. He wasn't hurt." After a short pause Balinor added, "I can't tell you how sorry I am for all this."

"It wasn't your fault. I don't blame you, your majesty," she assured him.

"I do bear some responsibility though - it was I who gave him the position through which he got close to you. For years he lived and worked here, and I never realized how deep his bitterness ran."

"He hid it well; I too was blind to his ill intent toward me until it was too late. I'm just grateful Merlin was able to thwart him."

"We all are. I'll leave you to rest now." As Balinor stood up, he felt Morgana's slender fingers on his wrist.

"Sire, why isn't Merlin with you? I wish to thank him in person."

The king looked down at her hopeful expression and sighed. "He hasn't left his chambers since yesterday; you must remember that he was Edwin's friend and student. Killing him wasn't something he took lightly."

Morgana instantly felt ashamed - she'd been pleased to hear of Edwin's demise, though a little disappointed that she hadn't been able to watch. Not once had she stopped to think of how taking the life of his friend must have affected Merlin. _Of course he didn't take it lightly - he's not a killer by nature yet he had to do it anyway, poor thing._ She wished she could go to him and console him, but she still needed to recover; Balinor's visit, brief as it had been, had tired her. Leaving her bed was out of the question, so she would have to wait for him to come to her instead.

###

A steady stream of well-wishers passed through her chambers that morning. Lancelot came to pay respects on behalf of all the knights, though Morgana noticed his eyes drifting to Gwen once or twice, and even Theodosius ventured out of his library to see her; she suspected he was verifying that she truly was unwell enough to justify missing her lesson.

Finally, just when she thought she going to get some peace - there couldn't be more than a handful of people in the castle, perhaps not even the entire citadel, who hadn't already told her how happy they were that she was still among the living - she received one last unexpected, unwelcome visitor: the Lady Sirenia.

"What are you doing here?" Morgana demanded as the witch approached.

Sirenia's copper-colored eyebrows arched elegantly. "Why, I came to see how my future queen fares, naturally, after that failed attempt at poisoning by our poor, hideous physician. Such a pity."

"A pity that I was poisoned, or that he failed?"

"Are you suggesting that I might wish his plot had succeeded?" Sirenia clicked her tongue chidingly. "Dear me, I fear whatever dark magic was used on you has addled your feeble brain in addition to the external damage - your skin is looking especially sallow today."

Morgana pressed back into the mound of pillows behind her, wishing she had her dagger; the predatory gleam in those gray eyes as they moved over her face and their owner's obvious glee at finding her weak and vulnerable sent chills up her spine.

Sensing her discomfort, Gwen said, "My mistress needs rest, and she hasn't been able to get much with all the people wanting to see how she is. I think you should go."

"You _think_?" Sirenia repeated incredulously. "When did they start allowing servants to do that?"

Gwen moved closer, an uncharacteristically steely look in her eyes. "Morgana wants you out. Now, you can leave voluntarily, or-"

Quick as a striking snake, Sirenia's hand came up to grasp Gwen under the chin, her sharp nails digging into the maid's skin. "You are most impertinent," she said conversationally. "You remind me of a maid I had once; she could never keep her tongue still either-" Her voice suddenly sharpened and became decidedly menacing. "-Until I cut it out. You wouldn't want something like that to happen to you, would you?" Her hand slid upward, bringing her nails dangerously close to Gwen's eyes.

Morgana tensed, preparing to force her body out of bed. Recuperation be damned, she was _not_ going to sit by and let this madwoman maim Gwen. But before she could actually move-

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, though I thank the gods every day that I'm not. Get away from her."

"You're just a stable-hand," Sirenia snapped at Gwaine. "You don't tell me what to do!"

"I do if you're outnumbered," Gwaine retorted, gesturing at Freya and Will, who had come in with him. "You're not even the only one here who can do magic."

"This isn't your father's province," Will added, "so you can't get away with doing whatever you like. But if you prefer the way things are in Stonecliff, I can get Merlin to arrange for you to go back."

Sirenia let out a low, angry growl, but she released Gwen and stormed out. Freed from the subtle spell woven by the witch's touch and her own fear that had rooted her in place, Gwen collapsed on the bed. Morgana pulled her into a comforting, protective embrace. "Did she hurt you?"

Gwen shook her head. "I thought she was going to, but she didn't."

"That woman," Gwaine declared, "ought to be face down in a dung heap."

"If you believe she's even a woman. Personally, I think she crawled out of the Black Lagoon and enchanted Lord Syrus into thinking she's his daughter," Will said while Freya nodded fervently.

"The Black Lagoon?"

"One of the strangest places in Dagon, my lady," Freya explained. "The stories say horrible creatures live in it - leeches as big as your arm and such things. Mind you, they're only stories since no one goes there if they can help it."

"I can certainly believe Sirenia came from such a place. Did she really get away with cutting out her maid's tongue?"

"Who knows? Merlin's never found any of her maids missing a tongue - gods know he's looked - so she either made it up or . . . did something else with the girl. Either way, there's no crime without a complainant."

"I don't know how she planned to stop me and Gwen from complaining, but I'm thankful for your timely arrival nonetheless. Did you come for anything in particular?"

"Will has something for you."

The manservant produced a slightly crumpled wildflower bouquet from under his jacket. Gwen jumped up to fetch a vase. Morgana was stunned. Of all the people she expected to bring her flowers, Will was at the bottom of the list. "I know we got off on the wrong foot-"

Freya gave a loud, obviously fake cough.

"-Due to my being an ass. There, are you happy now?" She nodded. "Anyhow," Will continued, addressing Morgana once more, "what Edwin tried to do to you wasn't right, and I'm glad you're not dead."

"Thank you, William." It wasn't an outright declaration of acceptance, but it was a definite change from his previous attitude. Morgana was pleased; at least one good thing had come out of her nearly being murdered.

###

Barely surviving an assassination attempt, Morgana discovered, could make anyone (except Sirenia) be nice to her. Not even Arthur was immune to this phenomenon; for the first time in living memory, he hand-delivered her lunch.

She smiled sweetly as he balanced the tray over her lap. "How thoughtful of you, Arthur. It's almost as if you've learned to be kind and considerate."

"Almost. Listen, can we talk? Alone?"

Curiosity piqued by Arthur's seriousness, Morgana dismissed her maids. Arthur reached inside his jacket and produced a letter bearing the Pendragon seal. "This just arrived from Camelot. My father wants to know if we're settling in well, how you and Merlin are getting on."

"So now he cares, does he? I don't recall him worrying about how we'd get on when he ordered me to marry Merlin before I'd even met him."

"Morgana, do you have to be so harsh?"

"Yes! He traded me away to a complete stranger like chattel, and I cannot forgive him even though I've grown to like Merlin."

"You have?"

"He's been nothing but kind to me; I believe he'll make a good husband."

Arthur frowned. The Morgana he knew had never concerned herself with finding a good husband, had actually said once that she didn't think she needed one. It was a ridiculous notion - Uther wasn't going to let his ward become an old maid - but Arthur had secretly admired her for daring to entertain it. Had her forced engagement broken her independent spirit already? He couldn't let that happen, not even if taking action to stop it ruined his new friendship with Merlin. "Do you know how he killed Edwin Muirden? He used magic to _crush the man's body_! It took the servants all night to clean up the blood and . . . other remains."

Morgana recoiled. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because my father will be furious when he finds out the court physician of Dagon tried to kill you. If I tell him, I think I can persuade him to break off your engagement and let me take you back to Camelot. You won't have to go through with this marriage after all."

"Then you had better not tell him."

_"What?"_

"Everything I said still stands - Merlin may not be perfect, but he is a good man." She drew herself up, eyes flashing. "If I refuse him Uther will eventually find another to force on me, and I've seen enough women trapped in loveless marriages to know that is not a fate I want."

"Wait, are you saying you _love_ Merlin?"

The realization that she had inadvertently revealed her feelings - to _Arthur_, no less - hit her like a bucket of cold water, dousing the fire of her temper. "One day I might. Tell me, Arthur, would that make you think less of me?"

"No, I think you're lucky - too many people of our station never know love. If you're happy, then I'm happy for you."

"I'd be happier if I knew how he feels about me. He's polite and kind, as I said, but for all I know he might only be acting out of a sense of obligation."

Arthur began to feel embarrassed; he hadn't talked this much about emotions in . . . well, he didn't think he ever had. Going on about their feelings just wasn't something princes did. He would have squirmed, but princes didn't do that either. "I'm sure Merlin likes you. Didn't waste a moment in saving you, did he?"

"Since when he's avoided me," Morgana pointed out, fists clenching in frustration. "You don't suppose he resents having to kill his friend to save my life, do you?" It seemed absurd - she hadn't asked Edwin to attack her - but as the hours went by with no word from Merlin she'd started to wonder, and worry.

"How should I know? Look, I need to write back to Father. Eat your soup." He ruffled Morgana's hair, ignoring her indignant exclamation, and left feeling that he had fulfilled his duties as a surrogate brother and temporary guardian - at least the ones that required him to actually endure Morgana's company. All that was left was for him to write a letter telling Uther that she was happy and safe in Dagon and getting along well with her fiancé, but he wasn't going to do that right away. First he had to go see a warlock.

**Next up: Arthur and Merlin have a friendly chat, Merlin's all angsty, and his relationship with Morgana continues to be complicated - so no declarations of love shouted from the rooftops, I'm afraid. But if I feel generous we may get an Arthur/Gwen moment. **


	27. Guilt and Envy

**Rejoice, Arwen fans! I managed to deliver on my promise to give them a scene together. Those of you who like to see Morgana get jealous are also in for a treat. **

Merlin's door was locked, and Arthur's polite knock received no answer, so he abandoned politeness and pounded on it. "Merlin! Open up before I break down this door!"

Merlin had no idea whether Arthur could or would actually break down his door, but he undid the locking spell that kept out unwanted visitors just in case. Arthur strode inside intent on finding out what was keeping Merlin so busy that no one, not even his fiancée, had seen him all day, only to find the answer before voicing the question. The table at which Merlin sat was covered with a mess of books and papers seemingly devoid of rhyme or reason, leaving no room for the tray bearing his lunch, which sat untouched on the bed. "What is all this?"

"Edwin's things."

"What do you want with them?"

"Everything he left behind has to be sorted and his personal effects removed before his successor can move into his quarters."

"Your father's already appointed a new court physician?"

"No, but I'm sure he'll find someone soon." Merlin's eyes strayed back to the handwritten journal he had been reading.

Arthur tugged it out of his hands. "If there's no replacement yet, taking inventory isn't that urgent, and it's not even your job."

"He was my friend!" Merlin leapt to his feet and snatched Edwin's journal back. "He taught me everything I know about medicine and science and a lot of magic too-" His voice lowered, becoming soft and sad "-and I trusted him. I thought maybe I'd find something in here - where he got the bloodstones, how long he'd planned on attacking Morgana, why he betrayed the trust my father showed in appointing him and my friendship . . . anything to help me make sense of his actions. But there's nothing." He slammed the journal shut and tossed it onto the table, where it slid off the top of a teetering stack of books and thumped down into a sheaf of old parchment.

"Ah . . . You know, even if you found every detail of his plot, I'm not sure it would make you feel any better. It wouldn't change what happened, and if you're looking for further justification for killing him, well, you already have that, don't you? You _know_ he tried to murder Morgana."

"So I should just put it all behind me?"

"Yes!" Arthur said emphatically. "No man is worth your tears." He wasn't sure Merlin had been crying over Edwin - it was possible the redness in his eyes was just from all the long hours he'd spent reading, but Arthur doubted it. Unless Edwin's documents were dusty enough to make Merlin's eyes water, they couldn't be responsible for the faint tear tracks down his face.

Merlin turned away. "What would you know about it?"

"I happen to know a lot about killing."

"On the battlefield, where it's always justifiable. Have you ever regretted killing anyone?"

Arthur bristled at the tone of that question. What did Merlin think he was, a heartless executioner? "A few years ago, King Odin's son challenged me to single combat-"

"I heard about that. You killed him." Merlin tried to sound a little gentler; when that piece of news had reached Dagon he'd been appalled at the senseless loss of life, but just yesterday he had needlessly killed Edwin. He had no right to judge Arthur now.

"I didn't want to. I tried to persuade him to rescind the challenge, but he was too intent on proving himself, so I killed him, and yes, I did regret it." He gave Merlin a moment to digest that, then went on. "But it wasn't the end of the world. Life goes on, and you learn to live with-"

"Being a murderer? I didn't need to kill Edwin, you know - I could have just restrained him, taken him to my father-"

"And then he could have had a fair trial and been executed anyway. Your way was probably kinder; I bet he didn't have time to feel a thing. Say, how come you never fought that way before? If you'd been that aggressive when we were at war you probably could have decimated our forces and razed Camelot to the ground." He forced a short laugh, as if the idea of Merlin razing Camelot were absurd - in a way it was; Merlin had been known to trip over his own feet after all - but after yesterday Arthur's respect for his abilities had increased.

"Maybe I could have," Merlin said thoughtfully, "or maybe not; it took a lot of anger to make my magic lash out that way. During the war, it was hard to get angry when I knew some of the men I was fighting were only there because their king ordered them to be. Some of them were probably good men who didn't deserve to die just because Uther doesn't like magic."

"Of course they were good men! None of them deserved to die!" Even as he defended his fallen comrades-in-arms' honor, Arthur was uncomfortably aware that the war's casualties were more Uther's fault than Merlin's - he had been the one to instigate the hostilities, and it was becoming increasingly clear that Merlin only killed when he felt he had no other option.

"What about you? Were you only following orders, or did you really believe in the cause?"

"After a lifetime of being taught only my father's views on magic . . . perhaps a part of me did believe your kingdom should be wiped out for allowing it to flourish."

Merlin's penetrating gaze never wavered. "And now? Do you still believe that?" he whispered.

"Your magic saved my life, and Morgana's - I'm starting to see a different side to it. I'm grateful for all you've done."

Merlin scoffed at that; gratitude was better than the condemnation he'd braced himself for, but he didn't feel he deserved it. "You should be grateful to Gwen, since neither of us would've even known Morgana was in danger if it hadn't been for her. I already told her that last night, but I don't know if she was paying attention. She seemed more interested in getting away from me," he said sadly. It probably hadn't helped that he had encountered Gwen near the scene of Edwin's demise, when they had both dropped in to see how the cleanup was going.

"Well, I'll pass it along next time I see her. Now-" Arthur plucked an apple off the abandoned lunch tray "-are you going to eat this?"

###

"Guinevere!"

She dutifully stopped and waited for Arthur to catch up. "Yes, sire?"

"I'm surprised to see you here. Shouldn't you be with Morgana?"

"I'm on my way back to her right now; I was just returning her tray to the kitchens. And you?"

"I've just spoken with Merlin."

"What's he doing?" It had better be something important, though Gwen couldn't think of anything he could be doing that would justify the way he was ignoring Morgana.

"He was brooding over Edwin Muirden, but I talked him out of wasting any more time on useless moping."

"You did? Just like that, you talked him out of feeling sorry for killing his friend?"

Arthur smiled cockily. "Sure. It's all about knowing the right things to say."

Gwen had never considered Arthur a master of words, but she managed to hide her skepticism. "Did you tell him to go check on Morgana?"

"No . . . should I have?"

Gwen sighed; Arthur's obtuseness was really frustrating sometimes. He was lucky she was more patient than Morgana. "I just know she'd like to see him. Did he ask about her at all?"

"We weren't talking about girls, so she didn't come up."

"Oh. Well, I should get back to Morgana." _Who's going to be so disappointed to hear that her fiancé seems more upset about Edwin Muirden than her._ She started to walk away.

Arthur followed. "Guinevere, wait, I . . . I wanted to thank you. You were the one who realized Morgana was in trouble and helped Merlin reach her in time. She owes you her life. I'm in your debt as well, since it's thanks to you I still have a sister."

Gwen slowed her steps, turning her head to look up appraisingly at Arthur. "Thank you sire, that's very kind - although it would have meant more if Merlin hadn't had to tell you to say those things."

"What-? What makes you think I need _Merlin_ to tell me anything?" Arthur spluttered indignantly.

"You only acknowledged that I'd done anything helpful after speaking with him; it's rather obvious. I'm glad he's a good influence - now you might finally learn some manners." She resumed walking at her normal speed, quickly leaving Arthur behind as this time he made no effort to keep pace with her.

###

Morgana was indeed disappointed by Merlin's apparent lack of concern for her, but she didn't stay discouraged for long. "I'll be up and about tomorrow," she said confidently, "and then he'll have to spend time with me whether he likes it or not."

Gwen smiled. "I can't see how any man in his right mind could fail to like being with you. You told me Edwin used to be his friend, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, maybe he's only staying away because he doesn't want you to see him grieving over the man who tried to kill you. Maybe he's afraid you'd be offended."

"Gwen, you're as brilliant as you are kind. I'm sure that's it." It was indeed a plausible explanation but not one that made Morgana feel better, since if Gwen was right it meant that Merlin didn't think she could look beyond her own feelings and understand his sadness, guilt, or whatever it was he felt, nor did he want her trying to comfort him. Why was he so determined to push her away?

"Morgana, are you all right?"

Morgana quickly forced her smile back into place. "I'm fine, just a bit tired."

"Then you should sleep," Gwen said at once. "I'll be quiet." She fetched a rag and began dusting, taking care not to make noise.

Morgana lay down and closed her eyes. She didn't expect to actually fall asleep, but sleep she did, though not deeply; she was aware of Freya's arrival hours later, just before Gwen retired for the night.

"She didn't wake up for dinner," Gwen quietly reported, "so I thought I should just let her rest."

Morgana silently agreed; it wasn't often she was able to sleep without either nightmares or potions, and she wished the maids would hush and let her get on with it.

"Now that you're here I'll take her food back - it's gone cold."

"Leave it," Freya said in the same soft tone as Gwen. "She might be hungry later, and I can make it warm again."

"That's very kind of you."

Morgana heard Gwen walk away. When she heard Freya talking softly again a short time later she assumed Gwen had come back, until Freya's companion spoke. The voice definitely did not belong to Gwen.

"I volunteered to temporarily take over the court physician's duties," Merlin explained in response to Freya's query about what he was doing there, "so I thought I'd better check how the Lady Morgana's recovery is coming along."

"You've left it a bit late," Freya informed him. "She's sleeping." She was wrong about that; Morgana was now wide awake and had opened her eyes just enough to watch the prince and maidservant through her lashes while still appearing to be asleep. "I haven't noticed any lingering ill effects from the poison except weakness, although her strength seems to be coming back to her. Maybe I should wake her and she can say for herself how she's feeling." Freya started toward the bed.

Merlin stopped her with a hand on her arm. "That's not necessary. We should just let her sleep."

Freya slowly turned around to face him again, her eyes narrowing. "You don't want to see her, do you?"

"I can see her - look, she's in plain sight."

"I mean when she's awake. You don't want to talk to her."

Morgana's heart raced, the blood beating so loudly in her ears that she was afraid she wouldn't hear what Merlin said next - yet at the same time she feared she would. What if he said he somehow blamed her for Edwin's treachery and death, or worse, that he simply couldn't be bothered with her except when they were in public and had to keep up appearances?

"I don't know what to say," Merlin admitted. "I'm the one who took her to Edwin and told her she could trust him - she probably hates me."

"I'm sure she doesn't."

"Good for you. I haven't been sure of anything since I met her. My magic made her uncomfortable from the start, and being poisoned with a dark enchantment will only have reinforced her guardian's teachings that all magic is evil! . . . And I don't know how to change her mind." He sighed dejectedly. "Everything would be so much simpler if I could just marry you, Freya."

Freya sensed that she couldn't talk him out of his mood, so she hugged him, hoping the supportive gesture would do what words could not.

Morgana's blood boiled. She was a beautiful, wealthy noblewoman, the heiress of Cornwall and the daughter of a king in all but blood; she had been admired, adored, almost worshipped by men from all over Albion when they flocked to Camelot for tournaments - yet Merlin would rather marry _Freya_? How could he possibly prefer a serving girl of lesser beauty who could offer neither the experience to help run his kingdom nor even riches over her? How _dare_ he? And how dare Freya embrace him so brazenly right in front of her, even if she believed Morgana was sleeping? It was all the lady could do not to leap from her bed and tear her shameless maid from his arms . . .

. . . But she didn't have to. A window blew open, letting in a gust of cold wind and startling Merlin and Freya apart. Freya ran to secure the window, which had bounced off the wall and was swinging madly on its hinges while Merlin checked that Morgana's covers hadn't been disturbed. She was glad it wasn't Freya bending over her; she might not have been able to resist reaching up and throttling her.

"Why was that window open?" Merlin hissed. "Morgana's already been weakened by Edwin's bloodstones; the last thing she needs is to catch cold!"

"It wasn't open, sire. I remember Gwen closing it."

"Then the latch must be broken."

"I don't think it is." Freya looked bewildered.

Merlin inspected the latch and agreed that it wasn't broken. They decided the window must have simply opened by accident and closed it again, making sure it was safely locked, and then Merlin left.

Morgana was thankful that he hadn't examined her; if he had learned anything from Edwin he'd have known she was merely feigning sleep, which would have been very awkward. She didn't want him to know she had overheard him and Freya . . . but tomorrow, she thought, her fists clenching beneath her coverlet, she would teach the witch a lesson. _She should know not to get too close to a man who belongs to someone else, especially not when that person is me._

**Next up: Morgana will finally get set straight on the fact that Freya doesn't want to steal Merlin from her, and we learn why Freya isn't a bastet. **

**Oh, and for anyone who doesn't think it made sense for Merlin not to have wanted to conquer Camelot, keep in mind that Dagon was only in the war to keep Uther out; all they wanted was to be left alone to live in peace, not to institute a new world order. **


	28. Freya's Tale

**Warning: this starts off with the Morgana/Freya smackdown that's been several chapters in the making…but since they're girls, instead of fighting it out they end up having a talk-fest and braiding each other's hair. Just kidding, there's no braiding of hair here. Freya's backstory is taken from the 'Lady of the Lake' episode as she related it to Merlin, but I've expanded it a bit. How did her family die? Why did that sorceress' son attack her? Here are my answers to those questions, as well as how she escaped being cursed. **

When morning arrived Morgana rose from her bed despite Gwen's protestations that perhaps she could use more rest and ordered her friend to help her dress. She chose her darkest gown to match her mood and adorned her throat with a dark ruby necklace; the overall effect was imposingly regal. Then she sent Gwen out so she could be alone with Freya, who was setting out her breakfast. She approached quietly from behind, then loudly cleared her throat.

Freya whirled around with a startled little cry. Morgana was so close she could feel the lady's breath on her face. Suddenly feeling that she might be in trouble, Freya gulped and glanced around for help, but Gwen was nowhere to be seen. She was alone with her angry-looking mistress. "S-Sausage, my lady?" she asked, voice shaking just the tiniest bit.

"No, I do not want a sausage." Morgana spoke coldly and clearly, with an icy calm that seemed at odds with the simmering fury behind her eyes. "Sit down, Freya."

"My lady-"

"I said," Morgana hissed, "_sit_. Or does your disrespect for me run so deep that you think you can disobey a direct order from your mistress and future queen? I should point out that your prince isn't here to protect you."

Freya sank into the chair she had pulled out for Morgana, now looking baffled as well as worried. "I don't disrespect you, my lady," she tremulously protested.

Morgana trapped the other girl by gripping the chair's armrests and leaned forward until her nose almost touched Freya's. "_Liar._ I was awake last night - I saw you behaving far too intimately with Prince Merlin, and I heard him say he'd prefer to marry you, but that will never happen. Whatever feelings he has for you, your affair ends now. I will not have my fiancé and my maid carrying on in my own chambers! Don't think you can make a fool of me in this way!"

"Nobody wants to make a fool of you, my lady. I was just trying to cheer Merlin up because he's my friend. But he's _only_ a friend, I swear."

"I don't believe you. How did a serving girl come to befriend a prince? I heard he brought you to live here in the palace - why would he do that if not so you could be his lover?"

"To save me from a horrible fate. He protected me when no one else did," Freya said softly.

Morgana straightened up, her jade-colored eyes still hard as she stared down at the serving girl. "From what did you need protection?"

"A woman . . . a sorceress. She tried to put a curse on me." Freya shuddered.

"Why?"

Freya bowed her head in shame. "I killed her son," she whispered.

"And Merlin took it on himself to protect a murderer?" Uther never would've done that; he would have had her beheaded. No, Uther would already have had Freya burned at the stake for being a witch before she had a chance to murder anyone. "I trust there were extenuating circumstances?"

Freya nodded. "The man I killed attacked me. I only wanted to defend myself, but I was so afraid he was going to kill me that I put too much force into my spell. I just meant to push him off me, maybe knock him out so I could run, but I broke his neck instead."

"Why did no one help you? Where was your family?"

"Dead," Freya said sadly. "A fever took my father one winter, and my brother drowned not two months later. We lived near a lake; in the winter the winds whipped it into such huge waves, you thought they were going to crash down and take away all the houses, but in the summer, when the water was calm, it was like heaven." She smiled, remembering happier times from her childhood. "We couldn't wait for summer to come so we could go swimming again . . . but that spring my brother didn't wait long enough. It was starting to get warmer and there had been three weeks of good weather, so he said it would be all right to go in the lake just for a little while." Her expression darkened. "I wanted to go too, but our mother made me stay and help her in the vegetable garden. I was furious - I argued with her until all of a sudden a storm blew up. We ran down to the shore to look for my brother . . . We were too late. After that the grief was too much for my mother; she didn't seem to care about living anymore. She started to waste away bit by bit, and then she died too." She closed her eyes as a single tear slid down her cheek.

Morgana moved to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder, unsure if Freya would accept comfort from her since she had dredged up those painful memories in the first place. She half expected her to flinch away from her touch, but instead Freya clutched her hand like a lifeline. "I am so sorry that happened to you."

Freya sniffled and continued her tale. "I provided for us as best I could with my father and brother gone, but even with my mother eating less and less we barely had enough to survive. The sorceress' son had asked me to marry him once before, and I had refused him. He was angry, but my father said it was my choice who I married and sent him away. When my family died, he thought I would be desperate enough to accept."

"Which you obviously did not," Morgana observed. She felt a stab of envy; poor as Freya might have been, at least she was free to determine the course of her own life.

Anger flashed in Freya's dark eyes. "I had just finished burying my mother when he told me I needed him to take care of me. I said I'd rather starve than marry him. Then he said if I wouldn't be his wife he would just take what he wanted from me and be on his way."

"I can see why you killed him."

"I didn't mean to," Freya reminded her.

"I would have," Morgana growled.

"When his mother found out what I'd done, she said she would curse me to kill forevermore. I was terrified . . . and then Merlin was there. He was passing through the village, and it was my good fortune that he saw the sorceress threatening me and stopped her. She was arrested for attempting to use dark magic but allowed to live because he understood her grief over losing her son and felt sorry for her. I thought I was going to be arrested too, but once I explained that it was an accident Merlin decided to let me go. When I told him I was afraid the sorceress might try again to take her revenge, he offered to take me back to the capital city and find work for me. I said yes; there was nothing for me in my village anymore, just bad memories and danger. We became friends, but we were never more than that. In all the time since I met Merlin I've never known him to love anyone except his father, and he's never seemed interested in women at all."

"You mean to tell me he's never been with any woman? _Ever_?" Freya shook her head, and Morgana's eyebrows shot up toward her hairline. She and Arthur had both had sporadic, short-lived flirtations here and there - they had even tried flirting with each other for a while when it looked like Uther was seriously considering officially making her a Pendragon, but their efforts at kindling romance had been horribly awkward and soon fizzled out, although they were able to remain close friends afterward. For the most part they had avoided becoming too attached to anyone who caught their eyes, knowing that when they married their feelings would have little to do with the matter.

That could be Merlin's reason for avoiding romance altogether, and it was just as well that he had so no hearts were broken when Balinor ordered him to marry Morgana . . . or it could be that finding love simply held no interest for him. Morgana didn't know if this was a good thing or very, very bad. On the one hand she was relieved not to have competition for his affections; on the other, how was she supposed to win the love of a man who apparently kept his heart locked up tighter than the vaults of Camelot?

Freya started talking again. "Nobody really knows why he hasn't, although some say he sort of closed himself off from other people after his mother died. Another theory is that he did fall in love once and it went badly for him."

"And who might the object of his unrequited love have been? Not Lady Sirenia, I hope?"

"Oh, no! Merlin never would've gotten involved with her! No, if he ever had feelings for someone it's not anybody who lives here."

"Hmm." Morgana nibbled her lower lip as she considered this, then turned back to her maid and smiled. "Thank you Freya, you've been most helpful."

Freya smiled back. She was starting to realize that even though the Lady Morgana seemed almost like a goddess of myth - beautiful, graceful, dignified, and occasionally terrifying - deep down she was just a girl like any other, wanting to get closer to the man she was falling for but unsure of where she stood with him. "Don't mention it, my lady. Now, why don't you eat your breakfast? You'll need your strength if you're not going to take any more time in bed to recover from the bloodstone curse. Then maybe you should go for a ride. Merlin usually exercises his horses about this time - you might run into him."

Morgana nodded and finally sat down to eat.

###

In the stables she encountered Gwaine and Lancelot, who confirmed that Merlin had indeed ridden out earlier and pointed out the direction he'd taken. "I suppose now you want me to saddle your horse?" Gwaine asked.

"I don't expect I'd catch up to him on foot, so yes, I do - if it isn't too much trouble for you," Morgana replied dryly.

"Not at all, my lady. I live to serve," Gwaine said sarcastically as he sauntered off toward Justinia's stall.

"If you'll allow me a few moments to saddle my own horse, my lady-" the honorific sounded much more respectful from Lancelot's lips "-I would be happy to escort you."

"That won't be necessary, Sir Lancelot." She had sent Gwen to keep Arthur busy so she could be alone with Merlin; the last thing she wanted was Lancelot chaperoning them in Arthur's place.

"As you wish, my lady." Lancelot wasn't entirely comfortable with letting the future queen ride off by herself, unprotected - if anything happened to her and he wasn't there to stop it, he could end up in the dungeon for dereliction of duty - but he assured himself that she would be safe. She would be with Merlin. Albion's most powerful warlock had already shown that he wouldn't hesitate to spill blood in her defense. In all the years he'd trained and fought alongside Merlin, Lancelot had never seen him lash out so aggressively. _Lady Morgana will probably be safer with him than she would be with a whole battalion of knights._

Lancelot also noticed Morgana didn't have Gwen attending her; if the lady didn't want his company, perhaps he could offer it to her maid instead.

**This is a little short by my standards, and yes I am aware that I'm torturing you all with the lack of Mergana scenes. Sorry about that. My reason is that I haven't updated in a long while, and if I started writing about Merlin and Morgana together I wouldn't be able to stop, which would make the wait for a new chapter much, much longer. So I decided to go ahead and post something, even if it's probably not what you were hoping for. Next time I promise to write a longer chapter exclusively about our favorite couple.**


	29. A Graveside Meeting

**I have a special treat for you this time: a whole chapter of nothing but Merlin and Morgana! No other characters, no interruptions, and the barriers between them are coming down. Enjoy!**

The capital city of Dagon, like its counterpart in Camelot, was built on a slight elevation and surrounded by a vast expanse of clear land so invaders couldn't approach undetected. It was on this unoccupied land, a few miles from the capital, that Morgana came upon Merlin's horse. The black stallion was grazing, his reins loosely draped over the pommel of his empty saddle. His rider was nowhere in sight.

Morgana edged Justinia closer to the other horse, fighting a gnawing fear in her stomach as she realized something must have happened to Merlin. The stallion raised his head and nickered at Justinia. Morgana leaned over and grabbed his reins, looping them over the pommel of her saddle. "Where's your master, boy? Prince Merlin? Prince Merlin!"

"Yes?"

Morgana jumped as he appeared from behind the trunk of a huge oak. "Why were you hiding behind that tree?" she exclaimed crossly. "I feared you'd been abducted by bandits or taken a fall and cracked your head open!"

"Bandits would have stolen my horse, and if I'd been hurt my magic would've helped me heal. You don't need to worry about me."

"I can see that. It seems there is nothing you cannot do - except find time for your future bride."

Her icy tone cut like a whip, and judging by Merlin's expression he definitely felt its sting. "Ah . . . well, you see, I . . . It wasn't that I couldn't find time, more that I couldn't find the right words to say to you. I think I'm still having that problem right now."

"I wouldn't have cared if you had little to say, my lord; I wouldn't even have minded if you said nothing at all. Anything would have been better than being ignored completely."

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to ignore you, I just thought you might prefer it if I stayed away. It's my job to keep you safe, and instead I led you straight to a man who nearly killed you! You should be furious with me."

As they talked they had moved closer to one another; now, with Merlin standing at her horse's shoulder, Morgana reached down, curled her gloved fingers around his chin, and made him look up at her. "I know you didn't act out of any malicious intent and I don't blame you. Please do not blame yourself."

Merlin jerked his head away. "Why not? Your life was endangered and we have no physician, all because I failed to see that one of the people closest to me was plotting murder right under my nose and stop him before it came to the point where someone had to die. I failed in every way possible."

"That isn't true - you didn't let me die. I hope you don't count saving me as a failure."

"Of course not! As angry as I am at myself for allowing any of this to happen, it would have been far worse if you'd died."

"Is that so? With me gone, perhaps you could have persuaded the king to let you marry Freya. That would be so much simpler, right?" she asked coolly.

Merlin's mouth fell open. "How did you-?"

Morgana smirked. "Just because a lady appears to be sleeping, you should never assume she can't hear you."

"I'm . . . sorry," Merlin said almost questioningly. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to apologize for a simple remark except that it had clearly displeased her.

"I don't want you to be sorry, I only want to know why you would rather be with that maidservant than with me. What does she have that I do not?"

Merlin was once more at a loss for words, shocked into speechlessness - until he saw the hurt on Morgana's face. She genuinely believed he liked Freya better than her, and it pained her deeply. "Nothing," he blurted, forcing the word out in an attempt to take away her pain. "I don't want to be with Freya."

"But you said-"

"-That being with her would be _easier_, not that it's what I _want_. Freya is one of the kindest, sweetest girls I know, but I just don't feel that way about her. When I'm with her . . . apart from her being a girl, it's almost the same as spending time with any of my other friends."

"And you do not feel that way with me?"

"No, you don't bring Will, Lancelot, or Gwaine to mind in any way."

Morgana considered this. "I'm glad of that, since they're all men." Merlin laughed. Morgana wondered if she dared ask him about the rumors of a love affair in his past, but decided that would be stretching her luck too far. She had already scolded him for not spending enough time with her even though he wasn't really obligated to do so and interrogated him about a remark that had turned out to be harmless _and_ the fairly personal matter of his feelings for one of his friends, and he had taken it all without betraying the slightest sign of impatience or irritation; bringing up the rumors as well might be one inquisition too many. She opted for what she thought was a safer question instead. "What are you doing out here, my lord? I was told you were exercising your horse, yet it seems to me he isn't working very hard." She nodded at the black stallion, who was still grazing.

Merlin's amusement suddenly vanished, his head tilting to one side as he gazed thoughtfully up at her. "Get off your horse, please."

"What?"

"If you want me to show you why I came to this spot you'll have to dismount, Lady Morgana." Morgana dismounted, and he held out his hand. "Walk with me, my lady?"

"But the horses - we can't just leave them," she protested.

"They won't wander off," he assured her. "You don't really think I'd make you walk all the way back to the castle, do you?"

She released Justinia with no further objection - there was still a lot she didn't understand about Merlin's magic, but if he said he could somehow keep their horses from running away, she was willing to take him at his word - and took his hand. He led her around the oak tree, which was wide as a tower at its base and far taller. The roots branched out several yards in all directions, and they were so thick that they made the ground bulge up near the trunk.

"Watch your step," Merlin warned as he helped her over an especially large root. "You don't want to end up with a twisted ankle, and those shoes wouldn't be much help if you fell." He shot a disapproving look down at her doeskin shoes. Dyed black and embroidered in red, they completed her outfit perfectly and had just enough of a heel to be acceptable for riding, but did nothing to protect her ankles.

"Forgive me, my lord; unlike you, I can't go stamping around in boots every day. It's not the style for a lady . . . though I wouldn't expect a man who wears the same clothes all week to understand that."

"Good, because I don't." They had circled halfway around the massive tree so that the city was now completely blocked from their view. On this side of the tree there was an overgrown grave, its moss-splotched tombstone nestled against the trunk so that the oak's roots almost seemed to embrace it.

Morgana pitied whoever had had to dig it; excavating among those roots must have been backbreaking work. "Who-?"

"My mother. I know this isn't where you'd expect to find the grave of a queen, but Father told me she would've hated being buried in some dusty mausoleum under the castle. From what I've heard there weren't many castles where she grew up, and I don't think she ever took to them."

That was odd. What sort of noblewoman didn't grow up in a castle? "Where was that?"

"A village called Ealdor; I think it's in Escetia. On her twelfth birthday she left to be trained by the priestesses of the Old Religion."

"And your priestesses do not live in castles?"

"Since they don't invite men into their living quarters, I wouldn't know."

"I thought the High Priestess was your friend?"

"She is . . . as much as she can ever be friends with anyone. She likes me, otherwise she probably would have killed me by now, or trapped me in a cave or tree somewhere, or whatever else she does to the people she doesn't get along with."

This matter-of-fact statement disturbed Morgana. If Merlin, who seemed so powerful to her, took it as indisputable fact that this High Priestess could do such things to him, then she must possess fearsome magic indeed. She hoped never to meet the woman, then remembered she had no choice - the High Priestess was supposed to attend her wedding.

"I think she would have liked you - my mother, I mean," Merlin continued. "I know she'd have liked that you carry a dagger everywhere. She used to tell me even those without swords can still die on the end of one, so it's better to know how to use them even if you are a woman. Or maybe she said especially if you're a woman."

Morgana smiled. "I think I would have liked her too. What happened to her?"

"You haven't heard?"

"I heard only that she died when you were still a child; no one has told me how. My lord, did . . . did Uther have anything to do with her death?"

Merlin seemed surprised. "Where did you get that idea?"

"I thought perhaps, in the great purge of Camelot . . ."

"Mother was never in Camelot. Don't worry my lady, your guardian didn't kill my mother - not directly at least. During the purge there was a lot of disagreement over whether we should declare war against Camelot, try to stop what King Uther was doing. Most people didn't want a war; there are a lot of sorcerers here but many of them don't actually have magic strong enough to be useful in battle. All they want is to live in peace and be accepted for who they are. The dragons also advised my father against fighting Camelot, so he decided not to. A small rebel faction got so angry over his choice that they tried to overthrow him. They were led by a very charismatic druid called Alvarr, and he _was_ a powerful sorcerer. He and his followers gave my father a fair bit of trouble; it wasn't quite a civil war, but it might have come to that if my mother hadn't finished him off. The coward dealt her a fatal blow just before he died." Merlin's eyes darkened with anger. They were still holding hands, and his grip had become crushingly tight.

Morgana was so spellbound by his story that she hardly noticed the pain. "Did that end the rebellion?" she asked softly.

"Oh, it ended. Father was so furious over losing her that he sent the dragons to finish off Alvarr's followers - it's the only time I ever heard of him ordering them to attack anyone."

Morgana shuddered and resolved never to get on the wrong side of Balinor. "I'm sorry. That must have been terrible for you."

"It could have been worse - I still have my father after all. In fact losing Mother brought us closer to each other. I used to be a little scared of him as a child - I think it was that big, scratchy beard - but then he was all I had." Morgana nodded understandingly. As he relaxed Merlin finally realized he was holding her hand much too tightly, loosened his grip, and began rubbing it to restore the flow of blood. "I guess in that way I'm luckier than you; you're Uther Pendragon's ward, so you must have lost both your parents?"

"Yes, my father died in battle. I had passed my tenth birthday, so I was fortunate to have five years more with him than you had with your mother."

"What about _your_ mother?"

Morgana yanked her hand away. "I don't wish to talk about her!"

Merlin drew back a little. Her hands were clenched, her posture defensive; she reminded him of a wounded animal lashing out at anyone who tried to touch it. Perhaps she was wounded, except her wounds weren't the kind that could be seen. "All right! I won't breathe another word about her. I promise."

She drew in a long breath and calmed herself. "I apologize, I just-"

"It's fine. So your father . . ." She hadn't reacted negatively when her father was mentioned, so Merlin figured he was allowed to ask questions about him.

"My father was Lord Gorlois of Cornwall. Uther called him an invaluable ally," she said proudly. "I only wish he wasn't so invaluable that he kept getting sent into battle."

"You must have loved him very much."

Morgana nodded. "His loss was devastating, though visiting his grave is always a comfort to me. It was," she amended. "I don't suppose I shall get to do that again unless you travel to Camelot some day and choose to take me with you."

Hearing the forlorn resignation in her voice, Merlin felt a rush of sympathy and admiration - sympathy because being so far from the last place where she felt a connection to her beloved father must be unimaginably hard for her, and admiration for the way she had borne total deracination without falling to pieces. If he'd had to go live in Camelot instead, he didn't know if he could have handled being taken from the only home he'd ever known so well. "Any time you want to visit your father's grave, just tell me. I'll arrange it." Magical transportation would have to be used, obviously, but perhaps by the time she decided to start asking him for favors magic wouldn't be so alarming to her.

She searched his face and saw nothing there to make her doubt his willingness or ability to keep that promise. "Thank you, my lord. You're very generous."

"Don't mention it. If there's anything in my power to do that brings you pleasure, then I'm happy to do it, my lady."

"Morgana," she blurted out on impulse. "I think after all the kindness you've shown me, not to mention saving my life, you've earned the right to be less formal in my company."

"I didn't do it - any of it - expecting anything from you in return, my lady."

She let out a small sigh of impatience; he really was noble to a fault. "If you don't feel you've earned this, then consider it given to you by someone who would like to be counted among your friends . . . even if I am not Will or Sir Lancelot."

Merlin grinned, some of his seriousness slipping away. "I've never been friends with a lady before," he mused, "especially not one I'm engaged to. Shouldn't we be trying for more than friendship?"

"We have plenty of time for that since we're to spend the rest of our lives together," she pointed out. "Friendship seems a good place to start."

"All right . . . Morgana." He said her name slowly, tasting it like a new savory dessert. It felt different in his mouth with no honorific attached. He decided he liked it better than 'my lady'; that was too impersonal, and Morgana was a pretty name. _Just right for a pretty girl._ "Well, Morgana, would you care to return to the city with me?"

"As you wish, my lord."

"If we're going to be on such intimate terms, you should call me Merlin. I'm only 'my lord' to my friends if we're somewhere we might be overheard - can't have people thinking they're being disrespectful. I don't suppose that's a problem for you and me, though."

She smiled brightly. "As you wish, Merlin." She followed him away from Hunith's grave, feeling elated; not only was there nothing between him and Freya, he didn't even think of her as a girl, not really. Better yet, he seemed to truly care for her, and she felt closer to him than ever.

As he had promised, their horses were still grazing where they had left them.

**Next chapter will have more Mergana, but I'm afraid there'll be other characters too since they weren't all wiped out by a meteor falling on the city while Merlin and Morgana were outside it.**


	30. What's In a Ring?

**As the first order of business, let's all give a round of applause to Aeden, who translated the spells in this chapter for me. He or she was kind enough to point out that Google Translate isn't always the most reliable source and generously agreed to become my Latin consultant. Aeden, thank you for helping me improve the quality of this story.**

**Second, does anyone know for sure whether Aithusa is male or female? I don't want to accidentally force the little guy (or girl!) to undergo gender reassignment when I write him/her in - yes, that was a spoiler.**

"There's something I've been meaning to give you," Merlin remarked when he and Morgana were back in the palace.

"Not a hairbrush, I hope."

Merlin looked bemused. "Er, no. Did you want one?"

"No, but it's the favorite choice when someone feels the need to give me a gift."

Her explanation only confused him more. "I can't see why - your hair doesn't look as if it needs brushing." He stopped outside the door to his chambers. "Wait here."

A short moment later he returned with a white gold ring shaped into the semblance of a miniscule dragon with a jade stone no bigger than the nib of a quill for its eye. "It's beautiful," Morgana marveled, amazed that something so tiny could be so exquisitely detailed, "and so lifelike. It's a symbol of the dragonlords, is it not? I've seen you and your father wear similar rings."

Merlin nodded. "I had this one made for you because the metal they're traditionally crafted from is good for retaining magic, and I've put my best protective enchantments on it. I thought after Edwin you might like something to keep you safe in case you're ever attacked with magic again."

"And this trinket will do that?" she asked dubiously. Fierce as the little gold dragon appeared, she found it hard to imagine a ring shielding her from power like Edwin's.

"Just watch." Holding the ring in his right hand, Merlin raised his left hand and intoned, _"Ignis conveni!" _ The air above his palm burst into flame, into which he thrust his right thumb and forefinger with the ring held between them.

Morgana cried out, afraid he was about to burn his fingers, but the ring drew the fire into itself, snuffing it out and leaving Merlin's hand unscathed. "Incredible," she breathed, awestruck.

Merlin smiled - this was the most positive reaction his magic had garnered from her as yet. "I enchanted it to absorb the energy of offensive spells, which should discourage anyone from trying to attack you a second time. If it doesn't and they keep it up, it'll drain their magical energy eventually. Depending on how powerful they are, they might even be weakened enough for you to finish them off with your dagger; if not, at least you'll be able to escape." He paused to see if she was following him, and thought she was - even if she didn't understand a word of what he was saying about energy, at least she was listening instead of changing the subject or simply blocking him out altogether, as she had on prior occasions when he'd tried to discuss magic with her.

A worried frown wrinkled her face. "But suppose I'm attacked by someone shrewd enough to figure out the source of my protection, and they take it from me?"

"I can take care of that. Give me your hand." Morgana held out her right hand, and he slid the ring onto her middle finger. "_Hic orbis amoveat solus ab Morgana._ Now no one except you can remove it. Well, not unless they chop off your finger." He grinned, thinking that anyone who tried to cut Morgana's finger off would have a hell of a fight on their hands.

"Thank you, Merlin. I hadn't even realized how vulnerable, how . . . powerless Edwin had made me feel until this moment, when you made me feel safe again." She twisted the ring on her finger. "I don't think I shall ever take it off."

"Well you needn't sleep with it - I put enchantments around your chambers as well to stop anyone wanting to harm you from entering, and to limit the use of magic inside. Freya will still be able to use it for small things like cleaning and warming food or bathwater, but not much more. Not that you can't trust _her_, but just in case someone else slips past the first set of barriers-"

"Thank you," Morgana said again. "I can see you've put a great deal of effort into providing me with every possible protection, and I'm grateful."

"Well, we're friends now. I look after my friends." He was beginning to suspect that in time he might come to feel more than friendship for her but kept that to himself, not wanting to put her off just when she was finally lowering her defenses. Besides, he mentally defended himself, he wasn't lying to her - if any of his other friends were in danger, he would do whatever he could to keep them safe. His feelings for her - feelings he wasn't even certain existed yet - were entirely irrelevant to the matter.

"And thank you for explaining how your protection spell works," she continued, oblivious to the internal debate taking place inside his head. "I believe I've learned more from five minutes with you than from all my lessons with the court historian. He only ever speaks of magic as an abstract concept; it seems to be quite important to my studies, yet he's never once tried to explain anything about it to me."

"He isn't supposed to."

Morgana blinked; all this time she had thought Theodosius was simply a poor teacher - it had never occurred to her that he might have been _instructed_ to skirt the issue of magic. "Why not?"

"It's a complicated, confusing subject, even for those of us who use it every day, and you don't have magic, Morgana. How could you hope to understand?"

He said this without a hint of condescension, almost gently and perhaps even a touch wistfully, and Morgana hated it. So this was how their life together would be: even if they opened their hearts completely and gave one another everything they had, his magic and her lack thereof would always stand like a gaping chasm between them; part of him would forever be out of her grasp. Could she live with that, loving him while giving up her need to possess every part of his heart and soul? She didn't know.

Sensing her frustration, Merlin reached out to her, then stopped mid-motion. Touching her face, even to offer comfort, felt too intimate for a friendly gesture. _Why is everything so complicated with girls?_ If only she were a boy, he could simply slap her on the back or punch her on the arm; those were the prescribed methods for cheering up his male friends, and although he never understood why, they usually worked. He squeezed her hand instead - he had made sure to keep his hands off Freya in the early stages of their friendship, fearing that any physical contact might be taken as the unwanted advances she had later confessed to expecting when he offered her his protection, but Morgana was comfortable with holding hands. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to; that's just the way it is."

Before she could answer, they heard footsteps approaching, accompanied by tuneless whistling. "That'll be Will," said Merlin - his manservant's whistling was a sound he knew well, having heard it almost every day while his chambers were cleaned.

Will strolled into the corridor carrying a load of freshly laundered clothes, his whistling ceasing when he saw the two young nobles. "Hello there. Where've you been all morning?"

"Riding, like I said I was going to."

"You didn't say you were going riding with _her_." Will waved a dark green scarf at Morgana. "Or when you said you wanted to be alone, did you mean you and she wanted to be alone together?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"It wasn't like that," Merlin said sharply.

Will's mocking leer transformed into the very picture of innocence. "Not like what?"

"Not like whatever you're thinking of!"

The manservant sighed heavily as if he'd just suffered a deep disappointment. "And here I thought you might finally be making progress. My lady, I hope you won't mind spending your wedding night watching him read a book on the other side of the bed . . . unless he has another bed brought in for you. Or you can just stay in your chambers in a different wing of the castle . . ."

Morgana flushed; with no mother or suitable substitute female role model to teach her about the things husbands and wives did together, she had focused only on her upcoming wedding day and tried not to let her thoughts stray to the night that would follow it. Merlin just grinned and said, "You'd better hope I don't have a second bed brought in, Will, or you'll have twice as many sheets to change. Now why don't you go put my clothes away before you drop them on the floor? I'd hate for you to have to wash them again."

"Right you are, sire." He continued on to Merlin's chambers, elbowing Merlin out of the way to get to the door, which Morgana helpfully opened for him. Once he was over the threshold he paused, one foot jammed against the door to keep it open, and said, "By the way, the king wants to see you."

"About what?"

Will shrugged. "Don't know, but he looked all serious so it must be important."

"And you're just now telling me?"

"I didn't know where you were. He's in the throne room; I'd get my rump down there if I were you."

###

Morgana followed Merlin to the throne room, where Balinor was waiting along with Arthur and the usual coterie of knights and courtiers who gathered around their king at every opportunity. "I'm sorry, Father, I just found out you wanted to see me and I came as soon as I heard-"

Balinor cut off his apology. "No matter, you're here now. I summoned you because I have received a report of a witch peddling items of dark magic in a nearby village. My source believes she may have been the one who sold Edwin Muirden the bloodstones he used to curse the Lady Morgana, so I thought you'd want to investigate personally."

"I do, and if this witch contributed in any way to what Edwin did, I'll see that she's brought to justice."

"Bring her back alive, and _I_ will see that justice is meted out," Balinor said firmly. He was taken aback by Merlin's cold tone and worried about what it portended if he caught the witch.

Merlin's eyes hardened; this order was both unexpected and unwanted. "Sire, if this woman was Edwin's supplier, she not only could have caused the death of my fiancée but also gave my friend the means to commit treason! I know if Edwin was truly determined he would have found another way, but-"

"That is true," the king interrupted in a voice that shut his son up at once. "His decisions were his, and his alone. Though I understand his betrayal hurt you and blaming someone else for turning him against us would ease that pain, you must not allow your feelings to cloud your judgment. If you cannot deal with this matter objectively I'll send Fredrick to assist Sir Lancelot in arresting her instead. You aren't the only sorcerer in this court, just the best."

Merlin sighed, knowing his father was right and only wanted to stop him from doing anything he would regret when the sting of Edwin's treason faded. "Yes, Father."

"My lord," Morgana spoke up, "I would like to accompany Prince Merlin and Sir Lancelot, if I may."

"No," Arthur said flatly. "A witch hunt is no place for you."

Morgana looked beseechingly at Balinor, but the king shook his head. "Your guardian has appointed Prince Arthur to look after you in his stead; his word is final. Besides, Mistress Flora has requested an audience with you today."

"Very well, your majesty," Morgana said with a small sigh.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm going with Merlin and Lancelot," Arthur told her. "I'll see that they get back in one piece."

"Wonderful," Morgana said sarcastically. "That is indeed a great comfort to me, Arthur."

###

She spent over an hour poring over designs for her wedding gown with Mistress Flora, and when she finally selected one from the intricately detailed drawings the dressmaker presented her with an assistant helped take her measurements so Flora could get to work. By the time she left the workroom bells were tolling the hour at which lunch was usually served, but neither of her maids appeared with any food, so Morgana set out to look for them.

Although she failed to find Gwen and Freya, she did come across Balinor. "Lady Morgana," he said politely.

"My lord."

"Why are you wandering the corridors when almost everyone is eating lunch?"

"I cannot find either of my maids, and while I don't suppose missing one meal will kill me, I would like to know where they are."

"I'm sure they'll turn up, but since they aren't here now you are welcome to eat with me unless you have better things to do than keep an old man company."

Morgana smiled winningly. "Oh? Will an old man be joining you, my lord?"

Balinor laughed and offered her his arm. "You're too kind." He escorted her out into the gardens, where a small table made of a frosted glass disk mounted on a single wrought iron column was set off a narrow, winding path. The flowers and manmade waterfall bubbling nearby gave their lunch the feel of a rather formal picnic. Balinor thoughtfully gave Morgana the seat which afforded her the most shade.

"This is a beautiful spot, sire," she commented as servants laid out their lunch.

"I like to get outside whenever possible; my wife used to say I would probably live in a cave if I wasn't the king." The servants set out the last dishes and excused themselves with deep bows. "Now, enough chatter. You seem well again, but how are you feeling? You look pale."

Morgana dismissed his concern, assuring him that she was completely recovered and attributing her paleness to a light complexion. They ate in silence for several minutes, and then he asked, "And how is my son treating you?"

"He's been very kind."

"But?" Balinor prompted. "I've had enough experience with bureaucratic dithering to know when someone's biting their tongue."

"It's nothing really. I've just found myself wondering . . . why you agreed to this match between me and Merlin. Surely you could have found someone better suited for him."

Balinor blinked in surprise. "I don't know that anyone is better suited to my son than you."

"It's just that today I was reminded yet again that he is a being of magic, and because I am not there are things about him I can never understand. Even when I'm standing beside him I still fear he's too far away from me." She nervously twisted her napkin in her fingers. "I apologize, sire; I should not say such things to you."

"So now it's 'sire' again, is it? Lady Morgana, I'm going to be your father-in-law, so let me speak to you as such. I know my son better than anyone, and I can tell you that if he wanted to marry a sorceress, he could have had his pick of them. Magic isn't everything. Merlin has friends without magic that he's very close to, and if that ring you're wearing is anything to go by you're more than just a friend to him."

"This?" Morgana glanced down at her dragon ring in confusion. "He didn't give it to me for sentimentality's sake."

Now Balinor also looked confused. "A dragonlord wouldn't have given that symbol of our heritage to someone not of the blood unless they considered them family. You would have been entitled to wear it after the wedding, but if Merlin gave it to you before it can only be a sign of his feelings for you."

Morgana arched a delicate eyebrow. "He neglected to tell me that. Is it possible he didn't realize this ring would indicate he has feelings for me?"

"No. So you see, you shouldn't worry that you won't be able to get close to him - seems you've already managed that."

**So we finally got to see some of the Morgana & Balinor bonding I promised, and Merlin gave her the ring which will take the place of her healing bracelet in this story. It won't help with her nightmares but it will come in handy later. Next up, Edwin's supplier is revealed (it's a character we know, not an OC, so I'll give a prize to anyone who can guess who), Mergana get more scenes together, and maybe I can get to Morgana's big magic reveal AT LAST.**


	31. The Trials of Lady Morgana

**As my holiday gift to you all, I will finally reveal Morgana's magic! This chapter also sees her getting some practice at being queenly, the introduction of another familiar face, some pre-Arwen development…oh yeah, and there's another Mergana scene. Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year to you all!**

After the lunch hour ended Morgana followed Balinor to his study, where she assisted him in reviewing various reports from the kingdom's many provinces, as well as those pertaining to the running of the palace. "This is dull work," the king remarked as he paused between signing documents to flex his sore hand. He then slid the papers down to Morgana's end of the table so she could stamp them with the royal seal. "I don't complain - a king can't shirk his less enjoyable duties - but you don't have to be here. You'll have plenty of time to do this when you're queen. Why don't you run along and amuse yourself while you can?"

Morgana didn't look up from her work. "With what, your majesty, needlework?"

"If that is what you like to do," Balinor said lamely; he had no idea what constituted fun for the average highborn female. "Or you could spend some time with your friends."

"Merlin and Arthur are gone, Gwen is nowhere to be found, and the Lady Amalla is journeying home to her family's lands to attend the birth of her new cousin - I fear I'm short of friends at the moment." She methodically dripped melted wax onto the bottom of yet another report next to the king's signature and pressed his seal into it.

"Well, I am grateful for your assistance."

They worked through the afternoon until Will poked his head in to tell them that Merlin, Arthur, and Lancelot had returned with the witch, who now awaited the king's judgment, at which point Balinor and Morgana immediately put aside their papers - the latter carefully returning the royal seal to its proper place - and hastened down to the castle's ground level. Will went with them; he wanted to see the witch's trial, and it seemed everyone else did too - the corridors were congested with people flocking to the throne room.

Morgana spied Gwen and Freya in the crowd and pushed her way over to them. Both girls jumped when her hands landed on their shoulders, then relaxed when they turned and saw it was her. "There you are!" the three of them exclaimed all at once. "Where have you been?"

"You first," Morgana declared, looking at Gwen.

"I did as you asked and kept Arthur out of your way all morning, and then I did your laundry."

"And I polished your jewelry until a quarter to noon, and then when I noticed it was almost lunchtime and you hadn't come back I went looking for you," Freya recounted.

"Then we just missed each other. I did come back, but not until you'd left."

They separated again inside the throne room - Gwen and Freya joined the other servants off to one side, and Morgana was positioned at the head of the room beside Balinor's throne. The king entered last and took his seat, completing the assembly, and then the witch was finally brought in. Morgana, who had been eagerly craning her neck to get a glimpse of the woman who had almost been the death of her, subsided with a faint feeling of disappointment. The witch was just a plump older woman with wrinkles lacing the skin around her eyes and a light brown braid streaked with a few silver strands; overall, Morgana thought she looked more like an old aunt than a purveyor of deadly poisons. She was flanked by Arthur and Merlin, with Lancelot at her back in case she tried to run, but that seemed unlikely - she offered no resistance at all as her captors led her in and presented her to the king.

"Her name is Alice," Merlin explained when his father inquired as to their prisoner's identity. "She travels from village to village working as a healer-"

"Yet she sold Edwin the bloodstones he used to poison me?" Morgana burst out. "Some healer." Alice dropped her gaze to the floor, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but it wasn't entirely her fault," Arthur said. "She was in the thrall of some sort of beast-"

"Manticore," Merlin supplied. This set the crowd of spectators buzzing like a hive of angry bees. Listening to their whispers, Morgana gathered that a manticore was a very rare, very dangerous magical creature.

Alice's quavering voice cut through the buzz. "Please, sire, may I speak?"

"You may." The sound of their king's voice silenced all except the one he had given permission to speak, allowing Alice to talk uncontested.

"I summoned the manticore hoping I could harness its powers for good, but it was too strong for me. It took control of my mind and forced me to turn my powers from healing to darker purposes-"

"Where is it now?" Balinor demanded. Every line in his body radiated tension; a manticore was far too dangerous to be allowed to roam freely through the kingdom.

"We've already destroyed it, sire," Lancelot assured him, and the crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Sir Lancelot and I held it off while Merlin destroyed its life source," Arthur elaborated. "We were lucky to escape with our lives-"

Merlin snorted. "It barely came up to your knees, Arthur."

"It may have been small, but it was fierce - _and_ it almost stung me with its scorpion's tail! Anyway, you didn't have to fight the thing; all you had to do was destroy a box."

"What box was this?" Balinor asked in an effort to stop Arthur and Merlin from falling into their usual playful squabbling.

"The box Alice kept it in acted as a portal between this world and the spirit world the manticore came from. She was able to fight its hold over her long enough to tell us that it had to maintain a connection with the spirit world to survive in ours, so we figured out that it would die if we broke the box."

"And then its body withered away into nothing," Arthur put in, sounding disgruntled.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, everyone still knows how brave you are even if you don't have the manticore's head as a trophy."

"It was too hideous to mount on a wall anyhow," Lancelot opined, and Arthur grudgingly agreed.

"Now that that's settled," said Balinor with a touch of impatience, "perhaps we can turn our attention back to Alice?"

The witch in question gulped. "I am ready to face whatever sentence your majesty deems appropriate, and I thank Prince Merlin, Prince Arthur, and Sir Lancelot for freeing me from the manticore. It's better to die free than to live as a slave."

"Brave words, but I will not pass sentence on you." Balinor turned to Morgana amid surprised murmurs from the crowd. "You were the one who came to harm as an indirect result of this woman's actions; I'll let you decide her fate."

Morgana slowly looked from the king to the woman whose life was now in her hands. Alice had supplied the magical vessels that had nearly ended Morgana's life, and even if she had only done so under the manticore's thrall, consorting with the creature had been her decision. Uther would have executed her in a heartbeat. Then Morgana glanced at Merlin, who was anxiously biting his lip as he awaited her verdict. He had been in a similar situation with Freya, whose actions _had_ caused a death, and he had chosen to show mercy. He understood that although her actions were harmful, her intentions hadn't been bad, and that made all the difference. It wouldn't have made a difference to Uther. _The question is, whose example should I follow? _Morgana felt that the choice she made now would have a profound effect on the sort of person she became later. _So who do I want to be?_

She took a deep breath and spoke at last. "I will spare your life." Alice looked as though she could hardly believe her ears. Morgana held up a cautionary finger. "Upon condition that you surrender all items of dark magic you may have acquired and never practice such enchantments again. If word reaches me that you have not abided by these conditions, I _will_ order your execution. Do you understand?"

"Oh, yes - thank you, my lady!" Alice stepped forward and clasped Morgana's hand. "You are truly kind and merciful. How can I ever repay you?"

"You can submit to a search of your belongings by Prince Merlin to ensure that you have discarded all your dangerous magical objects . . . and perhaps you should stay in the city a while as a sort of temporary probation."

"Of course . . . May I still practice my craft? Healing is my only gift, and I must buy food and pay rent if I'm to live in the capital."

"Maybe we can help with that," Merlin spoke up. "I had to kill the court physician because of what he did with the bloodstones you sold him, since when I and anyone else who knows anything about medicine have had to fill in while we look for a replacement. As a healer, you'd be perfect for the job - _if_ it really was just the manticore's influence that turned you to the dark arts, and if my father agrees - and you'd be provided lodgings in the palace, free of rent."

Balinor had to agree - after all, they couldn't keep asking the crown prince to perform a physician's duties in addition to his own, and after hearing what had happened to the previous physician no one was especially eager for the job - but he couldn't suppress a twinge of worry over his son's tendency to take in troublemakers. Granted, Freya had been an exemplary servant since her arrival, but Gwaine was a bit of a scoundrel who spent too much time brawling in the tavern.

_I'm sorry, Father, I didn't realize you disapproved of my friends._ Merlin had linked minds with his father just in time to catch his thought about Gwaine.

_I don't disapprove, I just hope you know what you're doing when you choose them. Some of your friends are trouble._

Merlin gave no outward sign of the mental conversation between him and his father, but the emotions he communicated via their thought-speak gave Balinor the feeling that Merlin desperately wanted to roll his eyes at him. _No one is more trouble than Arthur, but you want me to be friends with him, don't you?_

_ I don't think you find Prince Arthur nearly as bothersome as you pretend to._

_ Yes, I do,_ Merlin assured him. _He's a complete clotpole. _ Then he severed their magical line of communication and turned his attention to Morgana, who had made her way to him as soon as Balinor dismissed the court. She and Merlin left the throne room together and found some relative privacy on the front steps of the palace; there were people in the courtyard but none close enough to overhear them.

"That was the first time I ever passed sentence on an accused criminal," Morgana admitted. "I've been present at dozens of trials and watched Uther do it more times than I care to remember, but no one has ever asked me what I thought should happen to them before."

"I guess my father thought it was time you started practicing. It's a bit scary realizing that the people live and die by your command, isn't it?" Morgana nodded. "Well, I think you did the right thing, and it'll go a long way toward helping you win the people's loyalty."

"Did I not already have it?"

Merlin shrugged. "You will once they're convinced you'll be a good queen; they just don't know you well enough to make up their minds about you yet. The few times they've seen you outside the palace haven't told them much except how beautiful you are."

Morgana raised her eyebrows. "The people say I'm beautiful?"

"Everyone with eyes says so," Merlin stated matter-of-factly.

His disinterested tone bothered Morgana. "And what do you say?"

"I have eyes, don't I? Do you want me to write a speech praising your beauty?" The words sounded mocking, but Merlin's smile let her know he was only teasing, not seriously making fun of her.

"Perhaps I do," she teased back.

"Perhaps one day I will. Right now I have to go - a certain lady ordered me to search Alice's things for magical contraband, and I don't want to displease her." He gave Morgana a formal bow and started back up the steps.

"Merlin!" He stopped and turned around, frowning. Morgana quickly climbed the three steps separating them. "I don't care if you write a speech about me, but there is one favor I would ask of you. If I should need a sleeping draft or any other medicine . . . would you make it for me?"

"All right. I take it you're unhappy that I suggested Alice as our new physician?"

"I don't believe she is evil, else I wouldn't have let her live. Still, summoning the manticore was hardly a wise decision, and if I were in your place I would not have rewarded her foolishness with such an important position. I don't see how else you could have kept her in the palace, though, and for now I want her to stay where we can watch her."

"Exactly. I want to believe her remorse is genuine, but if it isn't I couldn't let her wander off someplace where she could hurt more people without us ever knowing about it. I swear I won't let her touch any of your remedies until I'm certain we can trust her."

Morgana expressed her relief and gratitude with a dazzling smile. "Thank you, Merlin."

###

Gwen and Freya served dinner at precisely eight o'clock that night, as if they felt a need to make up for the lunchtime lapse in their service. Merlin did not eat with Morgana as he was still busy helping Alice settle in; Arthur, however, did, and he spent most of the meal regaling her with the tale of how he, Merlin, and Lancelot had slain the manticore. She suspected he was exaggerating his part in it.

When he finally left - followed by Freya, who was taking the dishes away to be washed - she felt compelled to apologize to Gwen for foisting him on her but, amazingly, Gwen claimed not to have minded. "He really wasn't that bad; actually he was almost . . . nice."

"Are you talking about the same Arthur we just heard boasting of his latest victory? I almost lost my appetite listening to him!"

"He wasn't like that this morning. We just went walking in the gardens - I said I wanted to pick fresh flowers for your room and talked him into coming with me - and we just had a normal conversation."

Morgana twisted her neck in an awkward attempt to look into Gwen's face, but it was impossible since the maid was now directly behind her, unfastening her ruby necklace. "What could you and Arthur possibly have to talk about?"

"We're both lifelong residents of Camelot who've been sent to a foreign land, so I suppose we've more in common than we used to. We started off comparing Dagon and Camelot, and then he told me how his perspective on magic has changed since he and Merlin became friends. He isn't sure he wants it in Camelot, but he's glad Uther is only banishing sorcerers now instead of executing them." She laid Morgana's necklace on the vanity, then took her nightgown out of the wardrobe while Morgana undressed.

"And what do you think, Gwen?" she called from behind the changing screen.

"It's hard for me to believe there's any good in magic when it killed my father and I've only seen it used for evil . . . but maybe that's because Uther brings magical attacks on himself and the rest of Camelot through his prejudices. I think Arthur will be a kinder king than him."

Morgana made a noncommittal noise. "Arthur can be kind when he isn't too busy being an arrogant prat."

Gwen chuckled. "Now that I've spoken to him alone, I'm starting to wonder if he isn't more prone to acting that way around you."

"Me?"

"It's just that you're always teasing him - I've noticed that you both can be a bit mean to each other - so he feels he has to stick up for himself. I guess he wasn't like that with me because he doesn't care what I think of him; I'm just a servant, so I don't matter."

"You matter to me," Morgana said firmly before going into the washroom to clean herself. After she finished washing up she put on the nightgown that Gwen had draped over the top of the screen, then stepped out into the bedchamber to find that her bed was already neatly turned down. "Thank you, Gwen. That will be all."

"Good night, my lady." Gwen blew out all the candles save one, which she took into her room with her. Morgana fell asleep to the sounds of her friend preparing herself for bed.

###

She awoke what seemed a very short time later with the smell of smoke filling her nose. _Gwen must not have blown out every candle after all,_ she thought hazily. She opened her eyes, and was immediately shocked into total alertness by the sight of a raging inferno overhead. She instinctively tried to hurl herself out of bed, but was stopped by the discovery that her bed curtains, which had been closed to ward off the night's chill, were all ablaze. Morgana was trapped, and if she couldn't get out she was soon going to be burned alive. "Help! Gwen - anybody - help me!"

**Well Morgana is once again in mortal danger. Can she be saved in time, or is our heroine about to perish?**

**Morgana: How about instead of saving me, you quit putting me in danger in the first place?**

**Me: Um…sorry, no can do. I hope you all have enjoyed this early Christmas present. Happy holidays!**


	32. Putting Out Fires

**Hey all, sorry about the long wait for this chapter. I've started a new semester at a new college, and my schedule is way more demanding than it was last time, so I don't know when I'll have time to write. I'll just have to beg you once again to be patient.**

On the other side of the castle, Merlin's eyes snapped open. A wave of violently destructive magic had just erupted somewhere in the palace, and its sheer power had woken him like a slap to the face. As he scrambled out of bed and ran to investigate, he wondered whether he should alert someone else . . . but who? Will would be no help against a sorcerer or sorceress who could unleash this sort of magic, and Balinor's chambers were too far away for him to get there in time. So was the wing where the knights had their quarters. Merlin did however know a formidable warrior who didn't sleep in the knights' wing, so that was the person he reached out to.

Two corridors over, he met a shirtless, irate Arthur. "I was trying to sleep, and next thing I knew I heard your voice in my head yelling at me to get up and get my sword. What's the matter with you, Merlin?"

"Someone just used magic inside the castle."

"So? Dozens of people use magic in this castle."

Merlin was shaking his head before Arthur even finished speaking. "This was different from anything I've ever felt before, and it was so powerful it woke me out of a dead sleep."

Realizing that his friend was truly worried, Arthur set aside his annoyance and prepared himself to face a possible threat. "Are we under attack?"

"I don't know, but we'll find out soon enough."

"And how are we going to do that, _Mer_lin?"

"My magic can guide me to the source of whatever I sensed, so shut up and follow me."

Arthur did, but before they had gone far Gwen barreled around a corner and crashed into the warlock. He instinctively grabbed her, noticing as he did so that her hair was in disarray, her face was streaked with tears, and a strong smoky odor clung to her. "Gwen, what's wrong?"

"There's a fire in Morgana's bedchamber!"

Merlin's steadying grip on Gwen's arms tightened. "Where is she!"

The maid let out a hysterical sob. "Sh-she's trapped . . . I couldn't get to her. Please, you must help her!"

She was immediately thrust aside as Merlin charged off toward Morgana's chambers. When she tried to follow him, Arthur caught her and held her back. "Guinevere, no! There's nothing you can do here! Go and . . . summon the guards, or fetch some water or something." Then he ran after Merlin. Gwen hesitated only a second before following; she didn't know where any of the guards were, and fetching enough water to douse the fire would take a long time. She had to know if her friend was safe first.

###

Merlin plunged into Morgana's chambers with the spell to extinguish fire on the tip of his tongue, but the smoke inside was so thick it almost stifled him before he could get the words out. _"Fl- Flammae deflatagllate!"_ The flames were smothered instantly, but he couldn't see Morgana anywhere. Cold dread gripped Merlin. Was he too late? Had she already burned or suffocated? "Morgana! Morgana, where are you?"

"I last saw her on her bed," Gwen offered from the doorway. "I think that's where the fire started."

Merlin ripped away the burnt hangings from the right side of the bed and discovered Morgana huddled in the center of the mattress, miraculously still alive. "Morgana, thank the gods!"

She slowly lowered her arms, which were covering her head, and looked up. "Merlin?"

"Yes, I'm here. The fire's out. You're safe now."

The next thing he knew she was kneeling on the bed's edge with her arms around him, sobbing into his neck. "Oh, Merlin, I was so scared! The fire was everywhere and there was no way out; I thought I was going to die!"

"I would never let that happen. You're safe," he repeated.

"Wh-why do these things keep happening to me? What have I done to deserve this?"

He lifted her from the charred ruin of her bed. "Nothing. Nobody deserves to go through what you have, you least of all."

"Maybe I'm cursed," she sniffled.

"Don't start thinking like that. Just because you've nearly died twice in one week doesn't mean there's a curse at work," Arthur said bracingly. "It might simply be bad luck. Could the bed have been set alight by a candle?"

"No sire, I blew them all out," Gwen told him.

Still carrying Morgana, Merlin circled the bed and saw no evidence of any candles nearby. "She's right, it couldn't have been a candle."

"It was magic," Morgana mumbled without lifting her head from Merlin's shoulder. "I should have smelled the smoke and awakened in time to escape, but when I opened my eyes I was surrounded by the flames, as if they came from everywhere at once. It wasn't natural."

Merlin agreed. "Since Arthur and I were coming this way when we ran into Gwen, I think the spell that started the fire was probably what woke me."

Morgana finally raised her head to peer up at his face. "It woke you? Why?"

"It was powerful magic."

"Do you know who cast it?" Gwen asked.

"Obviously not," Arthur answered for Merlin, "else we'd be arresting them right now."

Morgana trembled and curled closer to her fiancé. "It was likely someone who bears a grudge against Uther just as Edwin did - and there must be hundreds of people here with cause to hate him! If they've all got the same idea of how to exact revenge I'll be lucky to live out the week."

Gwen marched over to where Merlin stood, slipped a hand under Morgana's chin, and forced her head up. "Don't say that. Arthur and Merlin will find whoever's responsible, won't you, my lords?"

Arthur assured her that they would. "We'll begin searching for them at first light tomorrow."

"Sure you don't want to eat breakfast first?" Merlin asked tauntingly.

"So you're just going to let the person who tried to kill me go free until after breakfast?" Morgana demanded.

"Merlin and I saw no one on our way here; the perpetrator will be long gone by now, so unless you want us to wake up the whole castle and search under everyone's beds, we might as well get some sleep so we can start fresh."

"How do you expect me to sleep knowing they might come back? Even if I could, I don't have a bed anymore."

"I can fix that. Hold on around my neck a bit tighter." Merlin took his arm from around her lower back, stretched out his hand, and cast a spell that repaired the damage done by the flames and smoke. Within seconds, it was impossible to tell there had ever been a fire at all.

He tried to put Morgana down on her restored bed, but she wouldn't let go of him. "They could still come back! Please don't leave me."

Gwen stepped forward and gently pried Morgana's hands off Merlin's nightshirt. "I'll stay with you."

Her offer failed to comfort the distraught lady. "And if a murderous sorcerer bursts in here what are you going to do? You can't protect me from magic, Gwen." She looked up at Merlin. "I'm beginning to think I'm only safe with you."

"He can't spend the night in your chambers, Morgana," Arthur chided. "Merlin, tell her that's out of the question."

Merlin glanced from Arthur to Morgana and back, feeling torn. Arthur was right; he and Morgana were engaged but not yet married, so staying the night with her would shatter the bounds of propriety and go against everything he'd ever been taught about how a prince should act . . . yet as her future husband, it was also his duty to keep her safe. How could he walk away from her when she was terrified and upset to the point of tears? Discord between Merlin's head and his heart was rare, but he was certainly experiencing it now. In the end he complied with Arthur's demands, but not before linking his mind with Morgana's. _If you need anything, call me,_ he instructed her.

_ How should I do that?_ she wondered.

_Just think it - I'll hear your thoughts the same as if you were speaking out loud._

Then he walked away, but Morgana discovered that even with Merlin out of her sight she still felt his presence. Although it wasn't the same as having him with her in the flesh, it was reassuring to know he could still watch over her, if only from a distance.

###

_Merlin!_

He frowned and stirred restlessly in response to the feeling of another mind intruding on his. _Morgana?_ He thought he remembered severing his connection with her once she was asleep, before going to bed himself - such links were used for communication over long distances and worked best when the parties involved directed specific thoughts to one another, so maintaining one between two people who were both in a state of suspended consciousness was fairly pointless - but perhaps his magic had reacted to his anxiety over her safety and emotional wellbeing by reaching out to her again while he slept. Or maybe he was only dreaming.

_This is no dream, young warlock, and I am not Morgana._

_ Kilgharrah,_ Merlin sighed, relaxing as his visitor identified himself.

_Yes, Merlin, it is I. Come to me when you wake, for I must speak with you._

_ You _are_ speaking with me._

Merlin sensed the annoyed switching of Kilgharrah's tail. _This is a matter I would prefer not to discuss from a distance whilst you sleep. You will therefore come to the mountains so we may speak face to face._

_ I have other business to attend-_

_ Would you prefer I fly to the palace and carry you off like a disobedient hatchling?_

Merlin decided he would not like that at all, so he told his friends at breakfast that he was going to visit the dragons. Morgana was not happy. "Are you forgetting that the person who tried to murder me last night is still out there? How can you catch them if you go gallivanting off to talk with dragons?"

"I'll leave the investigation in the hands of the guards; they're more than capable-" Merlin broke off as he remembered he was talking about the same guards who were nowhere to be found while his fiancée's life was in danger and had done nothing to help. "Well, surely they couldn't muck everything up if I left them on their own for one day . . . and put Lancelot in charge." Morgana still looked unsatisfied. "Hey, why don't you come with me? It'll be good for you to get outside, take your mind off things."

Morgana didn't see how an excursion to the dragons' nesting grounds could be good for her, but it couldn't be worse than sitting in her chambers all day, afraid to venture out alone in case her attacker was lying in wait. At least she would be safe with Merlin. "Very well."

"I'll come along too," Arthur declared. "Merlin, let's go ready the horses."

"Don't you mean send Cedric to ready our horses, dear brother?" Morgana asked sweetly.

Arthur rolled his eyes at her. "Morgana, I think I'm capable of saddling my own horse. Fetch your riding gloves and cloak and meet us in the courtyard in fifteen minutes."

"What's gotten into Arthur?" she asked Gwen once he and Merlin left. "Next he'll be telling me he can do up his own bootstraps."

Gwen giggled. "I told you last night, my lady, he's improving. He's not . . . Well, he's _less_ of a prat than he used to be. Speaking of boots, you should probably change into some."

Morgana looked down at her green satin slippers whose silver embellishments matched the edging around the neckline of her emerald dress. Merlin would definitely disapprove, and he'd be right - they weren't suited for the rugged terrain of a mountain. "I suppose I should - I don't want another lecture from Merlin on inappropriate footwear."

"Well, what does he know?" Gwen handed over a pair of sturdy brown leather boots. "Here you are - he can't complain about these. And I've got your cloak and gloves. Should I fetch mine as well?"

"No, Gwen, I don't need you to accompany me today. You may stay here and assist Sir Lancelot with his investigation. Perhaps you can assist him with other things as well," Morgana added suggestively.

Gwen looked scandalized. "Morgana! Things aren't like that between us."

"You like him, don't you?"

"Yes, but it's not like we're having some salacious affair."

"That's good to know." To Morgana's knowledge, Gwen had never done anything remotely salacious in her life, and Morgana thought she might die of shock if she did.

Gwen brushed off Morgana's satin slippers, placed them in the bottom of the wardrobe, and turned to face her mistress, hands on her hips. "Morgana, you know where I am nearly every hour of every day. I simply don't have much time to spend with Lancelot."

"I'm sorry. Shall I lighten your workload? Now that I have Freya I could get by-"

"That's kind," Gwen cut her off firmly, "but you don't have to do that. _You_ are the reason I left the home I shared with my father, all my friends, and everything else I've ever known. I came here for you, Morgana, not to flirt with knights."

"I know you did, Gwen - believe me, not a day goes by when I'm not grateful to have a friend who willingly gave up so much for me. I don't wish to stand in the way of you finding love."

"Love?" Gwen blinked rapidly. "I don't know that I exactly _love_ Lancelot-"

"Then I think you should find out." Morgana finished tying her bootlaces and stood up. "I shall see you this afternoon, and when I return I do not want to hear that you've been working all day." She fastened her green cloak around her shoulders, pulled on her gloves, and swept out.

"Yes, my lady," Gwen muttered to the empty room. She went over to the window in time to see Morgana emerge into the courtyard, where Arthur and Merlin were waiting with the horses. Morgana looked better than Gwen had ever seen her after an especially bad night, and last night was indisputably the worst she'd ever had. _Thanks to Merlin. I've never been able to calm Morgana the way he did; all I could ever do was give her another sleeping draft._

A smile crossed the maid's face as she watched Merlin help Morgana mount her horse; was it just her imagination, Gwen wondered, or did they hold onto one another's hands longer than was strictly necessary? _Looks like I'm not the only one who needs to sort out her feelings._

**Next up: Arthur and Morgana meet the dragons! And yes, Aithusa will be there. Also, Kilgharrah makes one of his famous speeches about destiny and doom and Morgana turning evil. The question is, will Merlin listen to him?**


	33. Destiny and Doom Revealed

**Warning: here be dragons! I'm also using this chapter to further explore the 'destiny' theme that's so prevalent in Merlin canon, except as you'll see my version has certain characters reacting very differently to the idea that they have to play out the roles destiny has scripted for them. I'm Team Free Will you know.**

Arthur was not enjoying his jaunt with Merlin and Morgana. Riding through the countryside had been pleasant, but then the horses inexplicably shied and began trying to bolt for home. Merlin said they were spooked by the dragons' proximity, and at his suggestion the three nobles left their mounts and walked the last mile to the mountains. Walking such a distance was easy for him and Morgana since neither of them wore armor or had a sword strapped around their waist. Arthur did. After a long trek - during which his scabbard banged against his leg every step of the way - they reached the mountains, but there was nary a dragon in sight.

"I don't see any dragons," he complained, folding his arms.

"They live up there." Merlin pointed at the peaks above them.

Arthur groaned. "You mean we have to climb all the way to the mountaintops?"

"You and Morgana don't have to unless you want to see a full-grown dragon. The younger ones are more curious, so they come down into the foothills to meet anyone who comes near their nesting grounds."

"Why aren't they here now?" Morgana asked.

"They are. Look over there."

Following Merlin's gaze, she caught a fleeting glimpse of a reptilian head disappearing behind a boulder. "Are they hiding?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Morgana couldn't imagine a dragon needing to hide from anything.

"They're scared," Merlin explained with an odd little smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Should I take off my sword? I don't want them to think I'll hurt them - unless they attack," Arthur quickly qualified.

"Your sword isn't the problem - they're afraid of Morgana. They've never seen a human female before so they don't know what to make of her," Merlin explained, finally giving in to the urge to laugh at the little dragons' reaction to his fiancée. "They think she's funny-looking."

Arthur grinned widely. "Well, they're right about that."

This launched Morgana into a tirade about what a horrible person Arthur was. Merlin knew there was no stopping her when she started on one of those, so he left the foster siblings to their bickering and tried to coax the dragons out. "Come here, little fellows. I know you haven't seen anyone like the Lady Morgana, but you don't have to be scared of her. If you behave, she promises not to eat any of you."

A conveniently timed pause for breath let her hear those last words. "_Eat_ them?"

Merlin shrugged. "They'll be less likely to set your hair on fire if they think you can."

Fourteen young dragons slowly crept out of their hiding places. They greeted Merlin like an old friend and seemed to find Arthur very interesting, but only the bravest came near Morgana. Once they had satisfied their curiosity about the humans, most of them began playing amongst themselves. Their games mostly consisted of chasing each other and tussling, but Morgana noticed two dragons harassing a third, smaller one by nipping at its wings and tail. Distressed by their behavior, she tugged on Merlin's sleeve and pointed them out to him. "Look at those bullies biting the little white dragon! Can't you make them stop?"

"She doesn't need my help. Watch."

The small white dragon let out an angry squawk and cuffed the purple one who was chewing on her tail with her forepaw. He squealed and let go. Her tail freed, she spun around and swatted the silver dragon who was nibbling on her wing, then chittered angrily at the two as they slunk off with their tails between their legs.

Morgana laughed her approval. "I like that little dragon."

"Her name is Aithusa. The others pick on her because she's a bit of a runt, and because there aren't many dragons of her color, but they never quite get the better of her. Aithusa!" The white dragon looked up. Merlin put out his hand and beckoned her. "Come here." She obeyed, voicing her complaints about her age-mates in a series of plaintive squeaks that only stopped after Merlin picked her up and healed the wounds left by the other dragons' bites. "That's better, isn't it? How would you like to do something important?"

Aithusa chirped agreeably.

"I need you to look after the Lady Morgana for me. Stay with her until I return."

"That won't be necessary, Merlin. I'm coming with you," Morgana said sharply.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that would be a good idea. Kilgharrah wishes to speak with me, not you or Arthur. I should go to him alone. You'll be perfectly safe here, and you'll have Aithusa for company - you won't even notice I'm gone."

Morgana relented and let Merlin transfer the little dragon into her arms. She didn't see the worried look in Aithusa's blue eyes as he walked away.

###

Soon after Merlin's departure, Aithusa tried to wriggle out of Morgana's grasp and Morgana set her on the ground with a small sigh of relief; Aithusa was adorable, but she was also heavy. She scampered off a short distance, looked back over her shoulder, and squeaked. Then she ran back to Morgana and nudged against her legs.

"What are you doing?" Morgana wondered aloud. "Are you playing a game?"

Aithusa sat back on her haunches and slowly shook her head from side to side. Morgana was intrigued - the dragon understood her and was attempting to communicate. She had seemed to understand what Merlin said to her, but Morgana had thought that must be due to his latent dragonlord powers. Apparently she was wrong. Perhaps with a bit of practice, she too could learn to converse with dragons. The idea sounded absurd even in her thoughts - Uther would think she'd gone mad if he ever found out she had so much as entertained the notion of speaking with a dragon, as if it were a rational being - but Morgana decided there was no harm in trying. As long as she wasn't required to use magic, it couldn't be a very wicked thing to do.

"So, you are not playing?" she asked, staring down into Aithusa's surprisingly intelligent eyes. The little dragon shook her head again. "Then what are you doing?"

Aithusa butted her legs again, forcing Morgana to take a stumbling step forward.

"You want me to move?" she guessed. Aithusa chirruped and darted ahead, then looked back at Morgana. "You want me to follow you, don't you?"

The dragon's head bobbed up and down.

Morgana glanced around nervously, certain Arthur wouldn't approve of a dragon leading her off on some wild chase. Arthur, however, was not paying attention to Morgana - a black dragon had made a game of batting Arthur's scabbard and, unable to dissuade the creature, he was trying to take it off but had only succeeded in tangling himself in his sword-belt. Morgana took advantage of his distraction and slipped away, snickering at his plight. She could have easily freed Arthur from his sword-belt, but if he was too proud to ask for her help, she wasn't going to offer it.

###

Following Aithusa took Morgana along a treacherous path of slippery scree and precariously placed boulders that would crush them if they fell. Negotiating the dangerous landscape demanded so much of Morgana's concentration that she didn't realize how high Aithusa's spiraling route had taken her until she found herself in the shadow of an adult dragon. She froze, clinging to the steep mountainside. "Aithusa!" she whispered. "Merlin said I wasn't to come up here!"

Aithusa hissed at her, an odd vocalization that sounded almost like _shh_. Morgana's mouth fell open. Had the dragon just shushed her?

Aithusa flattened herself to the ground and crawled onto a jaggedly protruding fang of rock. Morgana followed on her hands and knees and peered down past the sharp end of the ledge, which overlooked a low, relatively flat place between the highest peaks. Several dragons had congregated there, arranged in a loosely circular formation with a gigantic golden male in the center. Morgana's knees and elbows went weak at the sight of the behemoth - his size was unbelievable! She estimated a single fang in the gaping cavern of his mouth to be equal in length to the height of her entire body. Even if she stood on her toes, she doubted the top of her head would reach the deadly sharp point of the monster's tooth.

Merlin appeared almost comically tiny next to him, yet he didn't look intimidated at all; on the contrary, he was talking to the gold dragon like an old friend. "Prince Arthur is a noble man with a good heart, and the finest warrior I've ever met except maybe for Lancelot, but he is also a complete buffoon! Are you absolutely certain my destiny lies with him?"

"The ancient prophecies leave no room for doubt on this point, young warlock - you and Arthur are the Once and Future Kings who will bring everlasting peace to Albion, but that is not why you are here today. I summoned you because a new player has entered the field, one who can destroy this great future before it begins."

Merlin frowned; he'd anticipated bad news - Kilgharrah wouldn't make him risk his neck climbing the mountains just to tell him all was well - but he hadn't expected anything this dire. "All right then, tell me who this new player is and I'll deal with them."

The dragons chuckled, as if they were all enjoying a joke Merlin had been left out of. Their laughter - or rather concern over what might be causing it - pricked him like a needle in his subconscious.

"She is already known to you," Kilgharrah informed him. "Indeed, it seems you know her well - when I touched your mind, you called out for her."

Merlin thought he remembered, though the details of that conversation were hazy; he had been asleep after all. There was only one person Kilgharrah could mean . . . but it couldn't be . . .

"The one of whom I speak is the Lady Morgana. She is your destiny, and she is your doom."

Merlin gaped up at Kilgharrah in stunned silence for a long moment before finally recovering enough to say, "There must be some mistake."

Kilgharrah's eyes narrowed. "I assure you there is not."

"There has to be, because there is no way that Morgana is my doom. I know her, and she has a good heart."

"The prophecies speak not of her heart; they only name her as your downfall. Whatever relationship exists between the Lady Morgana and yourself, you must end it at once."

"That'll be difficult since Morgana and I are engaged to be married."

An orange dragon quietly scoffed at Merlin's 'silly human customs'.

Merlin rounded on her. "If you think my human customs are so trivial, consider this: Morgana is like a sister to Arthur, and he would never forgive me for leaving her."

"Then you must dispose of her by other means," Kilgharrah said calmly.

If Merlin had been shocked by Kilgharrah's prediction that Morgana was going to derail his destiny, it was nothing to how he felt now. Dispose of her? That sounded like Kilgharrah wanted him to . . . He refused to even think of what those words implied. Merlin had always had a great deal of respect for Kilgharrah; he admired his wisdom, trusted him, was grateful for the things the Great Dragon had taught him, even thought of him as a friend of sorts. How could Kilgharrah advise him to 'dispose' of anyone? And Morgana of all people? "This is insane."

"Look at me, Merlin." Kilgharrah's tone was uncharacteristically gentle. Merlin slowly looked up. "It was not my wish to upset you, and I am sorry. I had no choice but to warn you. Your destruction and the destruction of all you love is nigh, and you must act to prevent it. You must rid the kingdom of the danger that threatens it. The sacrifice of one girl is a small price to pay in exchange for all the lives that will be lost if the Lady Morgana is allowed to fulfill her dark destiny-"

"I won't do it!"

Frustrated, Kilgharrah thumped the ground with his tail, creating a shockwave that knocked Merlin on his rear end. "She is dangerous!"

"Do you have any proof of that other than the words of a few old prophecies?"

Kilgharrah glared down at Merlin, silently seething - why couldn't the obstinate little human see that he only wanted to protect him? - but said nothing. There was no proof of Lady Morgana's wicked nature yet, and in fact Kilgharrah couldn't even be sure she _was_ evil. Unfortunately the prophecies didn't say she had to be; she could destroy Merlin without meaning to. Kilgharrah actually pitied her - it was tragic that she was destined to bring about only doom and darkness although she might be the most pure-hearted, well-intentioned person in the world - but he refused to let his sympathy for the girl's sad fate stop him from doing what must be done. Merlin was more important, and if Morgana had to be sacrificed to keep him safe, so be it.

Merlin stood up. "I didn't think so. Whatever your prophecies say about her, they're wrong. Now, I am going home, and unless Morgana does something that shows she has evil in her heart you will not say another word against her, is that clear?"

The Great Dragon heaved a huge, rumbling sigh, but bowed his head in submission. He saw that saying anything else against Morgana would have no effect besides making Merlin angrier and damaging his own credibility.

"Good." Merlin looked around at the dragons gathered around them. "That goes for the rest of you as well."

###

High on a ledge overlooking the dragons' meeting place, Morgana was frozen in disbelief and distress. How could she be destined for evil? It made no sense, it wasn't fair, and Merlin's dragon mentor thought she deserved to _die_ because of it? At least Merlin disagreed with him. Merlin didn't believe she was evil . . .

Aithusa nudged her and tugged her sleeve. With a jolt of shock, Morgana realized that the dragons were dispersing, and if she stayed where she was they would discover her. Without Merlin there to defend her, they would probably prevent her destiny by roasting her on the spot. She scrambled backward off the ledge and started climbing down.

Fear of being caught and cooked made her go faster and less cautiously than she had on her way up, and near the end of her descent her foot landed in a patch of scree that broke loose under her weight and tumbled the last few feet to the mountain's base. Unable to regain her balance after her foot slipped, Morgana tumbled down with it. The fall was short but the landing was hard, and she knew as she slowly pulled herself to her feet, wincing at the little aches that had erupted all over her body, that she would have bruises tomorrow.

"Morgana! Where are you?"

She closed her eyes, wishing she didn't have to deal with _him_ just then. "I'm here, Arthur."

"Where have you been?" he demanded as he strode up to her. "I've been looking everywhere for you." Then he noticed the condition she was in. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Your hair and dress are in disarray and you're stooped over like you're in pain, so don't tell me nothing happened. Are you hurt?"

Arthur reached out to her, but Morgana flinched away from his hands. "I was climbing on a boulder and I fell. I'm not mortally wounded, so don't worry about it."

###

Aithusa watched as Morgana's human friends helped her onto her horse and took her away from the mountains, then ran and hid in the foliage-filled circle of stones that served as her nest. Of course it wasn't long before her mother found her there. The older dragon discovered what her offspring had done in a matter of minutes, and then Aithusa was scooped up in her mother's talons and carried off to face the Great Dragon and be disciplined for befriending Morgana.

Aithusa's mother deposited her in front of Kilgharrah on a large, flat rock that offered nowhere to hide from the huge gold dragon towering over her.

He didn't speak right away, just letting Aithusa feel the weight of his disapproving stare. It worked much better on her than it had on Merlin. At last he said, "Explain your actions today, little one."

Aithusa was too young to speak as Kilgharrah did, so she communicated with him in a jumbled outpouring of emotions, describing her conviction that Morgana was a good person and how seeing the way Merlin cared for the witchling had moved her to try to help them avoid their fate. Then, focusing her young mind on what her mother had taught her about the use of language, Aithusa formed a short sentence. _Morgana should know. Doesn't have to be evil._

Smoke rose from Kilgharrah's nostrils, expelled by an impatient snort. "Have you learned nothing? It matters not what is in the witch's heart; the forces of destiny are at work even now, and the witch cannot escape them. She will fulfill the destiny that has been written for her in one way or another, even if she does not do so knowingly."

Aithusa let out a squeak of protest. _Couldn't you help? If no, I will._

"Yes, you have already shown you are willing to interfere with destiny; only Merlin was meant to hear the things I told him today, not the witch. I can only hope your recklessness has not doomed us all."

**So Morgana made a new friend…but the other dragons really, really want to get rid of her. And she fell down a mountain. Poor girl. At least Merlin didn't have to save her again.**

**Morgana: Good, I was getting tired of being portrayed as a damsel in distress. Merlin should be the damsel and **_**I**_** should be saving **_**him**_**!**

**Merlin: But I'm not a damsel!**

**Morgana *smirks*: Well, I do look better in a dress.**

**Me: Well, I hope you enjoyed that. Everyone loves cute little Aithusa, right? We'll see more of her, I promise. In fact I think I should devote the rest of this story to Aithusa and throw out the whole Mergana storyline… Yes? No?**


	34. Sense and Sensitivity

**Please wish me luck on my final exams next week, and on the new endeavor I shall begin this weekend: teaching my horses to go into a trailer. It's gonna be great assuming I don't get bitten, kicked in the head, or trampled.**

Merlin, Arthur, and Morgana went their separate ways as soon as they arrived home. Arthur went to the armory to get his sword-belt repaired (though he wouldn't say exactly how it had been damaged), Merlin met with Lancelot to check on the progress of his investigation, and Morgana stayed in the stables, brushing Justinia. Grooming her horse usually soothed Morgana, but today the rhythmically repetitive task brought her no comfort; it only occupied her hands while leaving her mind free to wander, and she did not like where it went.

The more thought she gave the matter, the more she began to fear that the dragons' prophecies might be right. Perhaps she _was_ Merlin's doom. Hadn't she already come close to endangering his life once, when she had wanted to cure him of his magic? She had turned away from that path when she learned that it would end with his death, but at the time she'd thought she would be helping him. What if something like that happened again, and she inadvertently caused him harm while meaning only good? She would have to take more care with her decisions from now on, try harder to foresee all possible consequences of her actions, yet she wasn't sure that would be enough.

Kilgharrah had been very vague about how Merlin would meet his end at her hands - maybe in the end her actions wouldn't matter at all. Perhaps one day he would trip over the end of her skirt, fall down the stairs, and break his neck. How was she to guard against such a mishap, or any of the myriad other fatal accidents she might bring down on him?

The sound of her name drew Morgana out of her increasingly desperate musings; she turned around to find Merlin leaning on the half door of Justinia's stall. "Merlin, you really must stop sneaking up on me."

"I never sneak up on you."

"Then how is it I never hear you coming?" Morgana asked crossly.

Merlin just shrugged. Questioning Morgana's powers of observation when she was already annoyed with him didn't seem like the best idea.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. Gwaine said he never saw you leave the stables, so I thought you might still be inside."

"Has Sir Lancelot found the person who set fire to my chambers?"

"No, he hasn't. I'm sorry."

Morgana nodded and returned to her work.

Merlin wondered why she was acting so blasé, as if she'd lost interest in catching the arsonist. _Or maybe something else is troubling her - she's been oddly subdued since we left the mountains._ He lifted the wooden bolt on the stall door and let himself in. "Morgana, turn around. Look at me." She obeyed, her movements slower than was normal for her. He took the brush out of her hand and set it aside. "Do you have some injury that I overlooked? Are you in pain?"

"No, I'm fine." Merlin had insisted on healing her scrapes and bruises in spite of her protests that they weren't worth the fuss; physically, she had never felt better.

His fingers curled suddenly around her chin, tipping her head up. "You are not fine," he said forcefully. "You've been too quiet all afternoon; I know there's something wrong. I want to help, but I can't unless you tell me what it is."

"Aithusa…" Morgana's mouth suddenly went dry. She swallowed and went on. "Aithusa led me up into the mountaintops. I heard everything Kilgharrah said - apparently I am your destiny and your doom, and I-"

"Morgana, I'm sorry," Merlin interrupted. "You weren't meant to hear any of that, and next time I see Aithusa I'm going to have a word with her about her meddling."

"Why? She is the only one who thought I should know the truth when everyone else wanted to keep it from me - even you, it seems."

"And now that you know, how do you feel?"

"How do I-? I am confused, and angry, and…and frightened," Morgana admitted.

"That is exactly why I wouldn't have shared Kilgharrah's warning with you. Prophecy isn't as straightforward as the dragons believe - each one offers a glimpse of how future events _might_ come to pass, but none are set in stone. There are hundreds of prophecies that will never be realized, so I didn't want you to be upset by that fatalistic rubbish. I only wanted to protect you."

For a brief moment Morgana was able to believe and take comfort in Merlin's reassurances…but he was wrong. Her dreams always came true, especially the bad ones. As her surge of hope faded, doubt crept in like shadows just before a candle's flame died. Why should Merlin care so much about protecting her? Arthur was the one he needed to fulfill his destiny, not her. As always, Arthur came first. "Were you also protecting me by not telling me that you and Arthur are destined to unite Albion? That you are - what did Kilgharrah call you - the Once and Future Kings?"

Merlin replied that he hadn't told anyone about his and Arthur's supposed destiny, not even Arthur himself, because there had never been peace throughout all of Albion; uniting all the lands was a near-impossible task. Anyone he told that he and _Arthur Pendragon_ would accomplish it would tell him to have his head examined.

"I disagree. Camelot is full of people who believe Arthur is destined for greatness."

Her acidic tone took Merlin by surprise; he had never heard her sound so bitter. "Are you jealous?"

"Of Arthur?" Morgana scoffed. "No, I desire nothing Arthur has; I just wish people saw the same potential in me as they see in him. I've lived in his shadow since I became Uther's ward. I thought things would be different when I met the man I was to marry, but I see now that the true purpose of our engagement was to bring you and Arthur together so you can forge the greatest alliance Albion has ever seen. Don't pretend otherwise," she said sharply when Merlin opened his mouth to protest. "Just give me one honest answer. You've been so kind to me, so thoughtful and caring… Was any of it real? Has it all been a charade for Arthur's benefit?"

"Of course not." Merlin didn't know whether to be insulted that she suspected him of such duplicity or flattered that she thought him a talented enough performer to carry it out. "I won't deny that I saw you as a means to an end at first, but that was before I really knew you. Now that I do…I care about you, Morgana. There is no one I'd rather have by my side."

"Not even Arthur?"

"I can't marry Arthur, can I?" Merlin asked rhetorically. "Even if I could, I don't think I'd want to. I could never feel that way about him."

Morgana moved closer, flicking her hair behind her shoulder and tilting her head coquettishly as she gazed up at Merlin. His eyes, she was pleased to see, were instantly drawn to the exposed curve of her neck. "What way is that, my lord?"

His gaze snapped back up to her face. "Well…the way I feel about you." Before she could push him into a more detailed confession of his feelings, the sound of a man pushing a wheelbarrow into the stable alerted him that they were about to have company. "That'll be Gwaine."

Morgana ground her teeth in frustration as Merlin's demeanor became guarded; she would get nothing more from him with Gwaine around. Gwaine worked his way through the stable toward them, pitching hay from his wheelbarrow into the stalls. When he reached Justinia's stall, he paused. "Moving the royal quarters out to the stables, Merlin? Or were you and the lovely Lady Morgana just having a tumble in the hay?"

"How dare you impugn my honor with such vulgarities?" Morgana demanded furiously.

Merlin put a calming hand on her shoulder. "Let me handle this. You know, Gwaine, a tumble in the hay sounds like fun." He lunged forward, grabbed Gwaine by the shirt, and hauled him head-first into the stall. "Why don't you give it a try?" He then opened the stall door and dumped the wheelbarrow's contents on his friend while Morgana looked on and laughed. "Will you consider your honor avenged now, my lady? If you're not satisfied I could challenge Gwaine to a duel, but it wouldn't be a fair fight - he's better with a sword than I'll ever be."

"That won't be necessary. If I required a duel to avenge the insult to my honor, I would challenge Gwaine myself." She wasn't going to force Merlin to duel one of his friends, nor could she be too harsh with Gwaine, who she sometimes thought was only a short step from being a drunkard. Anyway, offensive as his careless comment had been, he hadn't meant any serious harm.

Merlin and Morgana left just as Gwaine worked an arm out of the hay Merlin had piled over him and uncovered his face. He spat out a stalk that had found its way into his mouth and told Justinia, "You see, that's the trouble with noblewomen: they take their honor far too seriously. Get their noses all out of joint over one little joke. How do you like that, girl?"

The mare lifted her tail and deposited a pile of dung right next to Gwaine's head.

###

"Would you care to escort me to the library?" Morgana asked as she and Merlin crossed the courtyard. "I have a lesson this afternoon and your company would be most welcome."

"I'll take you to the library, but I can't stay."

Morgana's face fell; she'd hoped Merlin would decide to sit in on her lesson and add a bit of color to Theodosius' dry teachings. "Why not?"

"Because whoever started that fire last night is still at large, and I-" He came to a sudden, lurching halt. Morgana, whose arm was linked through his, was forced to stop as well. "I am such an idiot!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's so obvious I don't know how I didn't see - even with Kilgharrah distracting me I still shouldn't have made such a stupid mistake…"

"Merlin, what are you talking about?"

He hissed in surprise and discomfort as Morgana's fingers dug into his arm; he had almost forgotten she was with him, but there she was, and judging by the half-confused, half-annoyed look on her face, she wasn't following his line of thought. "The fire was started by powerful magic, but the protection spells I put on your chambers should have made that impossible," he explained, his tongue tripping over the words in his rush to get them out.

"You said your spells would still allow a small amount of magic to be used within my chambers, though, for Freya's chores and such. Perhaps someone only meant to set a small fire to keep the room warm, and it got out of hand," Morgana reasoned.

"Then someone must have had very bad aim considering how far your bed is from the hearth." Merlin shook his head. "No, Morgana, I _felt_ the spell being cast. The magic behind it was too destructive for a simple household spell, and it was well above the limits I set. I either made a terrible mistake when I put those enchantments in place to protect you, or your attacker somehow broke them. I need to inspect your chambers."

He would have gone there immediately, but Morgana still had a tight grip on his arm. "Are you saying my chambers may not be safe? Should I not return there?"

"Just go to the library and stay there until I come for you. Don't wander off by yourself." He glanced down at Morgana's right hand, assuring himself that her white gold dragon ring was still there. "And keep your ring on!"

She let go of him and he sprinted toward the castle's nearest entrance, finally giving in to the fear rising inside him, making it impossible to keep still. If someone had undone the strongest enchantments he was capable of creating, they were not a foe to be trifled with.

###

"What is he doing?" Gwen whispered. Merlin's eyes were closed, his palm pressed against the south wall of Morgana's bedchamber, and there was an expression of intense concentration on his face. Gwen didn't know what to make of it.

"I don't know," Lancelot replied in an undertone, "but I'd wager my sword it involves magic."

Merlin's eyes snapped open. "I was testing the spells meant to ward these chambers from dangerous magic to find out why they didn't stop Morgana's bed from catching fire. I was afraid the culprit might have broken them, but the wards are still intact. They just failed to respond, so I've been trying to figure out what I did wrong. I've not found any flaws yet."

"Maybe your only mistake was assuming the fire was started by magic," Lancelot suggested.

"It couldn't have been a candle. There were no candles near the bed," Gwen reminded him.

"Someone could have used a candle or torch to start the fire, then taken it with them."

"What about the magical disturbance I felt?" Merlin demanded.

Lancelot shrugged. "It could have taken place elsewhere. You weren't certain the source was in the Lady Morgana's chambers, were you, sire?"

"Well…no," Merlin admitted. "It made sense…but I may have jumped to conclusions. There was no damage of that magnitude reported, though. What else could it have been?"

"A magical experiment gone awry - there are several sorcerers in the palace and citadel who dabble in risky forms of magic. When you were younger, you had a few accidents yourself, Merlin. If the sorcerer was able to contain whatever mess they made, they might not have reported it to avoid trouble."

Merlin agreed that Lancelot's theory sounded plausible; he had covered up a few magical mishaps himself as a child, though Hunith almost always caught him.

"This is a good thing, isn't it? There isn't an evil sorcerer trying to kill Morgana after all," Gwen said happily.

"Is an assassin without magic really so much better?" Merlin asked.

Gwen's face fell. "Well, they must not be a very skilled assassin," she said, trying to salvage some of the positivity Merlin had just deflated. "They failed."

"They were skilled enough to gain entry to her chambers without raising an alarm," Merlin pointed out. "I'll post guards outside the door tonight."

"I think that would be wise," Lancelot told him.

Gwen agreed. "I'm sure it'll make Morgana feel safer. My lord, if I may ask, where is she?"

"I asked her to wait in the library while I examined the wards here; I couldn't have her distracting me while I worked."

"I'm sure she wouldn't have."

Merlin looked mildly surprised at Gwen's sharp tone. "Not on purpose - I know she wouldn't do that. It's just hard to concentrate when she's nearby."

###

Morgana stayed in the library after her lesson ended, amusing herself with a book on the history of the dragonlords. Reading about the great war that had erupted between factions one thousand years ago - it seemed dragonlords did not coexist well with one another - and, once they got their dragons involved, wiped out almost every dragonlord except the Ambrosius clan from which Balinor and Merlin were descended was fascinating, but when she finished the account of it two hours later and Merlin still hadn't come, she began to get impatient. Although she didn't know exactly what he was doing in her chambers, she thought he was taking too long to do it.

After a few moments' debate with herself, she decided to leave the library. Merlin had only instructed her to stay there so he would know where she was, that she was safe; she could be safe elsewhere as long as she stayed in public areas. No one would attack her in front of a crowd of witnesses. Besides, she didn't want Merlin to think he had complete control over her.

She went to Arthur's chambers in search of company and found her foster brother writing a letter to Uther. "Would you like to add anything?" he asked her. "I know Father would enjoy hearing from you."

"All right."

He pushed a fresh sheet of paper and a pen across his desk to her. Morgana dipped her pen in Arthur's inkwell and began to write. Neither withheld news of the fire from Uther - he would be angry if he learned of it from another source and felt that his children were keeping things from him - but attributed it to a candle left burning too close to Morgana's bed. Morgana wrote that she had left it there herself to avoid casting blame on her maids. Uther had no authority over Freya since she was a subject of Dagon, and Gwen technically was as well since she lived in the kingdom, served its future queen, and had given up all rights to her home in Camelot, but Morgana feared Uther might still find a way to retaliate if he believed either of the girls had almost killed his ward.

She and Arthur had just finished their letters when Merlin burst in, startling them and causing Arthur to knock over the inkwell. "Arthur, have you seen… Morgana? Thank the gods you're all right! I'm sorry I made you wait so long; I got caught up in working out how the fire started and I forgot-"

"Merlin, enough. I understand, and I apologize if I worried you." She wondered if he would also expect an apology for not staying where he told her to. She had no intention of giving him one.

"I'm just glad you're okay. So what have you been doing?"

"Arthur and I were writing letters to Uther."

"Which are now ruined thanks to you. There's ink all over my desk too," Arthur said disgustedly.

"Are you saying it's my fault you're a clumsy oaf?"

"No, I'm saying you caused me to make this mess because you're an idiot. And I am not a clumsy oaf!"

Merlin just rolled his eyes. "_Revertere __in __atramentum __continentis_." The ink flowed back into its container, leaving Arthur's desk and papers unstained.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly; no matter how acclimated he thought he'd become to Merlin's magic, there were still times when he was amazed and (although he would never admit it) impressed by all the things the warlock was able to do with it. Such times were frequently followed by moments like this in which found himself seriously questioning his father's hatred of magic. Cleaning up the spilled ink by hand would have taken a lot longer, and the papers it had soaked into would have been irreparably damaged. Merlin, with his 'unnatural' powers, had cleaned up the mess more quickly and efficiently than anyone could have by natural means, and Arthur caught himself wondering if it would really be so bad to have someone like that in Camelot.

While Arthur pondered how Camelot would change if sorcery were allowed, Merlin told Morgana about Lancelot's theory that her attacker might have set her bed aflame through more mundane means than they originally suspected. Morgana wanted to believe the knight - though she agreed with Merlin that one assassin was hardly preferable to another, she wouldn't be so frightened of facing one without magic - but was skeptical. "I was certain magic was involved," she confided to Merlin. "I _felt_ it."

"How would you know what magic feels like?"

Morgana was too accustomed to sparring verbally with Arthur to be bothered by his slightly derisive tone, but his question rattled her. He was right - she had no way of recognizing magic. So where had her conviction come from?

"Stop it, Arthur," Merlin snapped. "Why do you always talk down to her?"

Arthur gave him a look of sheer bewilderment. "I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you don't." Merlin sounded less angry than exasperatedly resigned. "If you did, you wouldn't be an insensitive dollop-head. Come on, Morgana."

Still confused - Merlin's almost angry outburst in her defense had only added to her disconcertion - she yielded to the pressure of his hand on the small of her back and allowed him to steer her out of Arthur's chambers. "Why did you do that?"

"He was patronizing you."

"He usually does. You've never objected to the way he speaks to me before."

"I've never seen him upset you before."

"It wasn't _him_, it was what he said. Incredible as it seems, Arthur raised a valid point. I have almost no knowledge or experience of magic, yet I was convinced it was to blame for what happened to me…just like Uther. He sees magical foes everywhere."

"You're nothing like him. There are people with no magic of their own sensitive enough to detect its presence. Perhaps you're one of them."

Morgana stopped dead and grabbed his arm. "Then you think it was magic too!"

"Yes. I can't discount Lancelot's theory - it'd be foolish not to investigate every possibility, but my instincts are telling me you're right."

"Thank you, Merlin, thank you so much! You don't know what a relief it is to hear someone else say it so I don't have to keep feeling like I'm imagining things." Morgana had never been very tactile - Gwen sometimes touched her while helping her dress, and she occasionally embraced Arthur when he would allow it and Uther when he required a show of her affection, but on the whole she preferred to keep her hands to herself - yet at that moment she felt an overwhelming impulse to hug Merlin. Mere words couldn't express the depths of her gratitude, and she desperately wanted the comfort of another person holding her. She wanted _Merlin_ to hold her. Before she could think better of it, she stepped forward and threw her arms around him.

He went rigid. It was a stupid, illogical reaction - people had hugged him before, so it shouldn't affect him like this - but this was Morgana. His fiancée. A hug from her meant something different than if it came from anyone else. _I should do something. Push her away…no, I should hug her back. She's already hugging me, and if I don't reciprocate it'll probably hurt her feelings._ He slowly raised his arm, wrapped it around her lower back, and tried to will the tension from his body.

He wasn't successful; Morgana felt how stiff he was and pulled back, mortified. "I'm sorry, my lord, that was most unseemly-"

"No, no, it's fine. I understand you're just upset - what you've been through in the past few days is enough to make anyone…act out. We'll just forget it ever happened."

Morgana opened her mouth to say she didn't want to forget; while Merlin's reaction to her embrace was far from what she'd hoped for, she wanted to probe the reasons behind it, to find out why a gesture he accepted so readily from others turned him to a living statue when offered by her, but it was too late. Merlin was already walking away.

**So we finally got some progress on the Mergana front…until Merlin freaked out and ruined it. Morgana is now the most frustrated woman in Albion. Should I explain what our favorite warlock is thinking in the next chapter, or leave his thoughts as big a mystery to you as they are to his poor bride-to-be? **


	35. Shattered Glass

**Well, I survived the escapade with trailering my horses and have now (reluctantly) moved on to my next adventure: summer school. But I've paused my studying to bring you this chapter! Hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed slacking off for a day.**

"I'm sorry, sire, the Lady Morgana will not be joining you and Prince Arthur for dinner this evening."

"I didn't really expect her to." Merlin had decided he should invite her to dine with him and Arthur lest she think he was angry with her over the hug, but he wasn't surprised to learn that _she_ was angry with _him_. Soon he would have to make amends, or at least find a way to explain his reaction to her, but not until this business with the fire was resolved. He needed to make sure she was safe before he turned his attention to fixing things between them. For now she could be as angry with him as she liked, so long as she remained alive to do so. "Thank you for telling me, Freya."

"Of course, my lord." She waited for Merlin to say something more, but he offered no details about what had caused the rift between him and Morgana; it seemed that this time he didn't want help or advice from his friends. His next words were to Arthur's servant Cedric, telling him not to set a third place at the table. When it became obvious that Merlin wasn't in the mood for sharing his problems, Freya excused herself by saying she needed to attend her mistress.

Arthur wasn't so easily put off. "Why won't Morgana be eating dinner with us?" he asked once he and Merlin were seated and Cedric had served them.

"Why are you asking me?"

"You weren't surprised when Freya said she didn't want to, so you obviously know the reason why, _Mer_lin. She's not angry with me, is she? I mean, she doesn't really think I talk down to her?" Arthur was fully aware that he and Morgana were often quite rude to one another, but he didn't see anything wrong with that - it was simply how they related to each other. He'd never entertained the notion that Morgana might feel differently.

"Oh, she does. It's me she's cross with though."

Arthur found that hard to believe; Morgana seemed to adore Merlin. "Did you have a fight?"

Merlin shook his head. "She hugged me."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing into the hair that fell over his forehead. "Morgana hugged you?" Merlin nodded. "Yet now she isn't speaking to you. What did you do wrong?"

"Everything. She took me by surprise, and I… Well, you remember the time we went hunting and almost got run down by a wild boar?"

Arthur nodded; that day was indelibly etched in his memory as the day he finally got to save Merlin instead of the other way around. "But Morgana doesn't really resemble a wild boar, Merlin. Surely you didn't think she was attacking you?"

"She did sort of lunge at me. Once I realized what she was doing I tried to hug her back, but I was too tense. Now she probably thinks I didn't like it."

"Didn't you?"

"Sure - there's no reason I wouldn't. I just didn't think we should be hugging, that's all. I don't want her to get confused about how things are between us."

"And how are things between you?" Arthur laid down his fork, abandoning his roasted beef, carrots, and potatoes as his curiosity got the better of him.

Merlin was amused; it seemed Arthur thought there was much more to his and Morgana's relationship than there actually was. "I'll do my best to be a good husband to Morgana, Arthur, because it's my duty and because we've become friends, but that's all we are. We're not in love."

"Are you sure about that? Morgana isn't exactly free with her affections, yet she hugged you."

"I am," Merlin said firmly. "She's just grateful I saved her life - twice - and apparently I make her feel safe. That isn't love."

"And what of your feelings for her?"

"My feelings are a distraction I can't afford. Besides, what good would it do to moon over a woman who doesn't love me?"

Instead of answering, Arthur steered the conversation away from the subject of unrequited love - he'd never moped over a woman who didn't feel the same way about him, but from his friend's tone, it sounded like Merlin had.

###

Morgana tossed and turned restlessly in her bed. There was a storm approaching, making the air so oppressively humid it was almost like a thick, woolly blanket wrapped around her, smothering her. She sat up with a frustrated sigh, threw off her covers, and lifted her long hair off her neck. At dinner, she had been unable to eat because her stomach was tied in knots; now she was hungry, but so anxious that anything she ate would probably come right back up. Her head ached and she wanted nothing more than to sleep, yet every time she lay back and looked up at the canopy overhead she remembered seeing it engulfed in flames the previous night, which sent such a surge of fear through her that she was instantly wide awake again.

She sat like that for almost an hour, her nerves balanced on a knife's edge, until a deafening thunderclap sounded, so loud it seemed to shake the very air. Morgana jumped. In that same moment, every piece of glass in her bedchamber, from windows to mirrors to vases, shattered.

Her scream was nearly lost in the echoes of the crashing thunder, but Gwen nevertheless heard her and came running. The maid was already prepared for bed, dressed in her nightgown and barefoot - and the floor was littered with broken glass.

"Gwen, watch out!"

Morgana's warning came too late. Gwen fell to the floor with a cry of pain as sharp fragments pierced the soles of her feet. She threw out her hands to break her fall, which resulted in more glass cutting her palms.

There was a sudden pounding on the door; all the noise and shouting had alarmed the guards stationed outside the entrance to her chambers. "Lady Morgana, are you all right?"

"Gwen's been hurt!" Morgana yelled back. "Fetch the physician at once!"

She heard the heavy footsteps of one of the men racing away while the other burst in, picked Gwen up, set her on a chair, and began lighting candles. "Was anyone here, my lady? Did you see anything out of the ordinary?"

"Other than all the glass breaking?"

"Well, perhaps it was the storm."

"You must be joking. How could a storm cause this?" Morgana asked incredulously. "It was magic! Can no one else see that?"

The guard shuffled his feet awkwardly. Although his parents used magic to keep the vegetables they sold in the lower town from spoiling in the sun, he had always been more interested in weapons than in learning spells. As a result, he really didn't know much about magic.

When the second guard returned with Alice and, surprisingly, Merlin, Morgana's fears were confirmed; none of the three had seen any sign of similar damage elsewhere in the castle.

Alice pulled a chair close to Gwen's, took a pincer-like instrument out of her bag, and used it to extract the glass shards from Gwen's wounds. When she had removed it all, Merlin cast a spell that repaired all the broken items and returned each one to its original place. Then, while Alice applied salve and bandages to Gwen's hands and feet along with an enchantment to speed the healing process, he checked on Morgana.

She had clutched her sheets around her to keep warm when the cool wind accompanying the storm blew through her broken window; now she held them to her chest to cover herself from Merlin's eyes. "I'm fine," she replied when he asked how she was. "I'm not the one who was injured."

"You must have been scared, though."

"Naturally."

"I'm sorry this happened, Morgana."

"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, my lord." Her voice was painstakingly neutral - perfectly polite yet void of all emotion.

Merlin sighed. "Look, I know you're not happy with me, but I am going to keep you safe. I swear on my mother's grave I'll do whatever it takes to protect you."

"Thank you, my lord." This time Morgana allowed a note of appreciation into her voice; Merlin would not make such a vow lightly. However things stood between them, she knew he was deathly serious about her safety.

"It would help if you could tell me what happened," he said gently. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it-"

Morgana nodded, subconsciously pulling her covers tighter around herself. "It was too humid for me to sleep… I was sitting up in bed, precisely where I am now… I heard thunder, much closer than before…then the glass shattered."

"How?"

"Isn't it obvious? This time I _know_ it was magic! You said yourself mine was the only room in which anything was damaged, so it could not have been caused by concussion from the thunder-"

"No, I know that. What I meant was did everything break all at once, or one at a time?"

"All at once. Why does that matter?"

"So the spell had no focal point," Merlin said softly to himself. If the spell had been focused, the item nearest its point of origin would have broken first, followed by the others in an outwardly radiating pattern.

"What does that mean?" Morgana demanded.

"Most spells are directed at a specific object, person, or place," Merlin absently explained while continuing to turn the problem over in his mind. "Directionless outbursts only happen under severe emotional duress or when you're dealing with an undisciplined caster. I've only ever seen this lack of control in children just coming into their powers."

"There was no child here."

"Of course not. No child could get through the magical barriers I put on these chambers to keep out intruders." Every trace of abstraction had vanished from Merlin's tone; he now sounded less preoccupied than peeved.

"Well, someone did. Surely you don't mean to tell me they outwitted the great Emrys?" She tried desperately to sound as if she were teasing him, even taunting him - anything to disguise the fear rising inside her. If Merlin couldn't stop her mysterious assailant, who could?

He picked up the slight quaver in her voice despite her best efforts at concealing it and automatically reached out to give her shoulder a friendly, comforting squeeze. Then, recalling his earlier resolution not to confuse their relationship, he snatched it back. Morgana stared up at him, her eyes showing confusion and a small measure of concern; perhaps she was beginning to wonder if he had some sort of mental affliction. Merlin wondered the same thing - there really was no other explanation for why he let her affect him like this.

Since he couldn't seem to stay in control of himself around Morgana, he decided to put some distance between them and wandered over to the table where Alice was putting the finishing touches on Gwen's bandages. "Your wounds aren't deep, so they should heal within a few days, but you're not to work until they do," she instructed the maid.

"But I must look after Morgana-"

Merlin cut her off. "Freya can do that. You need to look after yourself."

Alice agreed with him, but it was only when Morgana seconded their opinion that Gwen agreed to take a minimum of three days off. "All right, all right, I'll stay in bed until I can walk without pain, but I should still be here in case an emergency arises."

Morgana immediately rejected this caveat. "I shall have a manservant help move you to the servants' quarters tomorrow - you'll have more peace and quiet there. Freya can stay with me."

Gwen slumped in her chair, defeated, until Morgana's guard lifted her out of it and carried her back to bed. Then he returned to his post outside the lady's chambers.

Alice also left so Morgana could have at least a small chance of getting some sleep. The walk back to her quarters was a long one; by the time she got there her old bones were ready to sink into her mattress, but just as she reached for the handle of her door, a voice calling her name stopped her. Merlin had followed her home unnoticed. "My lord! Forgive me for saying so, but you mustn't sneak up on me like that. My old heart can't take too many shocks."

Merlin just peered at her in clear bewilderment. After Morgana, Alice was the second person to accuse him of sneaking up on her today. He didn't know where they got such ideas. "Do you still keep acorus calamus in your workshop?"

"I do."

"Good. I need some."

"May I ask why you need it, sire?"

"To flavor my tea," was Merlin's flippant reply.

Alice folded her arms across her chest. "My lord, you know it would be unconscionable for a physician to dispense medicines without knowing what the recipient intends to use them for."

"All right. I need it for its stimulant properties. I'm tired."

"You know, sire, the best remedy for tiredness is usually a good night's sleep."

Merlin glared at her. "Since you don't yet know me well, I'll forgive you this once for thinking I'd be able to sleep while the Lady Morgana is in danger. Now, will you give me what I need, or do I have to use magic to keep myself awake?"

Seeing that there was no use arguing with him, Alice sighed and went to fetch the herb he'd requested.

###

Morgana spent the rest of that night tossing and turning, never managing to do more than doze fitfully for an hour or two. When at last dawn broke, she got up and dressed with a sense of relief. Although she was still anxious and scared, at least she didn't have to try to sleep anymore. _I may never sleep again._

"Breakfast, my lady?" Freya set a tray laden with enough food for four people in front of her. "You must be famished since you didn't eat last night."

"I don't know if I can eat now."

"You have to. Will told me Merlin stayed up all night trying to figure out how anyone could get in here and do these things to you, but all that'll be for nothing if you've already starved yourself to death."

Freya had a point. Morgana looked down at her plate and forced herself to inhale the delicious aroma of eggs, fresh bread with honey and cinnamon, and ripe, juicy strawberries and plums. Her stomach churned. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of her fork and held it like a dagger poised to stab a hated enemy.

"That's it, my lady. Just a few bites," Freya encouraged her.

After eating enough to satisfy the witch, Morgana went to the servants' wing, intending to visit Gwen, only to find that Lancelot was already there. Not wanting to interrupt their time together, she tried to leave quietly before either of them noticed her. Unfortunately Arthur ruined her attempt at stealth by crashing into her. "Arthur!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm certain he's not here to see me," Gwen said dryly.

"Well no, I was looking for Morgana and thought I'd probably find her here. Still, I hope you feel better soon, Guinevere."

"Thank you, sire."

"Why were you looking for me?" Morgana asked.

"I heard about last night and thought you might like some company, but if I was wrong I can go train with the knights instead."

Lancelot stood up from his chair beside Gwen's bed. "Training the knights is my job. I should go attend to my duties, and you both can keep Gwen company."

"You don't have to leave." Gwen blushed. "I- I'd like you to stay."

"Why don't we all stay here and have a game of cards or something?" Arthur suggested. _In this tiny, cramped room that's barely big enough for one person, let alone four._ He refrained from voicing that thought; it wasn't Gwen's fault she was confined here, unable to walk. Nor did he want to want to leave her, despite his objections to the room's size - he remembered how frustrating being stuck in bed while injured could be. When it had happened to him, it was only thanks to Morgana that he hadn't gone completely out of his mind.

Everyone agreed that was a good idea, and Lancelot went to fetch a pack of cards from the nearest guardroom.

###

Gwen finally threw her friends out hours later - she felt guilty for keeping the prince of Camelot and the future princess and head knight of Dagon from their duties, though she had to tell them she needed rest to make them leave.

Arthur and Lancelot decided to work out the stiffness that hours of sitting and playing cards had left in their muscles on the training ground. Morgana changed her clothes, pinned up her hair, commandeered a sword, and insisted on joining them. They allowed her to with no protests, Arthur because he didn't have the heart to argue with her and Lancelot because he didn't know what a formidable opponent she could be. He soon learned his lesson, and took being beaten by a lady of the court with more grace than Arthur had ever managed.

After the training session, Morgana bathed, changed into a dress, and met Theodosius in the library. The court historian ended their lesson by saying he was very pleased with her progress and thought she would soon be ready to take her place on the king's council.

She ate dinner in her chambers with Arthur, whose well-meaning yet obnoxious attempts at cheering her up with jokes he'd heard from his knights and in various taverns she endured with a forced smile. She would have preferred Gwen's less boisterous company but was determined not to come between Gwen and Lancelot again.

Arthur finally exhausted his supply of jokes and humorous tales at half-past ten and retired to his own chambers. Morgana dithered about for another half hour, rearranging her jewelry boxes and brushing her hair, before reluctantly going to bed. She sent Freya away; after Gwen's mishap, she didn't want anyone else getting hurt if this night brought another supernatural incident. The thought of going to sleep filled her with dread - as did thoughts of what she might wake up to - but she hadn't gotten much rest the past two nights. Fatigue overcame her before long.

The fears that plagued her during her waking hours turned into nightmares when she slept - nightmares made all the more terrifying because her rational mind offered her no protection in the realm of dreams. Morgana jolted awake as the castle bells tolled the hour, stifling a cry and looking wildly around for any sign of trouble. Nothing seemed amiss; there were no fires, no broken glass.

Morgana had almost relaxed when a tapestry on the wall opposite her bed caught her eye. The tapestry depicted a unicorn, and it was hung so that the unicorn seemed to stare straight at her. She liked looking into its kind violet eyes from her bed…yet when she glanced at that wall, she saw the tip of its horn instead. Had someone - or some_thing_ - lowered the tapestry? Morgana shifted onto her hands and knees, intending to crawl to the end of her bed for a better look, then froze when her movement caused the bed to wobble. _My bed should not be this unsteady._

Heart pounding, she peered under the bed. The floor was at least four feet below. Her bed was floating in midair. The instant Morgana realized what was happening, the force holding her bed aloft vanished, and it crashed back onto the floor with bone-jarring, teeth-rattling force. Morgana fell off the edge of her mattress with her legs still tangled in the covers. She freed herself in a flurry of desperate kicking and thrashing, scrambled to her feet, and fled the room. She had no idea where she was going, only that she couldn't stay there one moment longer; it wasn't safe. No place was safe for her.

###

Her headlong flight ended at Merlin's chambers. Though she hadn't consciously headed that way, Morgana was relieved to find herself there. Merlin would help her. Merlin _had_ to help her. Morgana hammered on the door.

"All right, all right! I'm coming! Keep your underclothes on!" A disgruntled Will flung open the door a short moment later. "Lady Morgana? What're you doing here at two o'clock in the morning?"

"Is Merlin here?" Morgana asked frantically.

"Yeah, he's in there. I was just trying to talk him into going to bed-"

"I must speak with him at once. Privately. It's a matter of utmost urgency."

"Bit late for that, don't you-"

But Morgana was in no mood to be put off by the manservant. "Just get out of my way!" She pushed Will aside, darted past him, and slammed the door behind her, shutting him out. She then turned around to find herself face to face with Merlin himself.

Like his manservant, the sorcerer looked rather put out. "What do you think you're doing, Morgana? You haven't the right to dismiss _my_ servant."

His slightly harsh tone hit her like a physical blow. "I-I'm sorry - I didn't know where else to go. Please, Merlin, I need help-"

He took hold of her arms, supporting her as she sagged against the door. "I'm the one who's sorry, Morgana. Shh, you're safe now. What's wrong?"

Fighting the urge to break down and cry, she stumbled through the story of how she'd awoken to find that her bed had levitated. "And it f-fell down when I saw what was happening, the same way the glass broke when I was startled by the thunder and the fire started while I slept. Merlin…I think _I_ made these things happen, and I don't understand how. I don't understand anything anymore. Am I going mad?"

"No, you aren't mad."

"Then what _is_ happening to me?"

Merlin tightened his hold on her as if he expected her to run from him or collapse. "You have magic, Morgana."

**So here we finally have the big magic reveal. Next we'll have the fallout: an exclusively Mergana-centric chapter with lots of angst and some revelations about Morgana and her family you won't see coming.**


	36. The Witch's Champion

"No!"

"You're the only person who'd be able to use that much power inside your chambers. The spells warding them against powerful magic weren't designed to affect you - I never dreamed you'd need to be protected from yourself! But it's the only explanation that makes sense… Well, it's the only one that's remotely possible," Merlin amended. There were several things about it that didn't make the slightest bit of sense to him.

"It sounds like you've had plenty of time to ponder it." Morgana suddenly smacked his chest with her open palm, then twisted out of his grasp and backed up, glaring daggers at him. "Why didn't you tell me!"

"I wanted to be sure first. I knew this was the likeliest explanation, but I convinced myself there had to be another one."

Morgana's heart skipped a beat. He was right - to think she'd brought these horrible things on herself, that she was some sort of enchantress, flew in the face of logic. There had to be another explanation. "And have you found one?" she asked hopefully.

Merlin reluctantly shook his head. "I looked, and I ruled out every other possibility. No one else could've started the fire, broken the glass, or made your bed fly off the floor. I was going to tell you in the morning; I didn't think you'd appreciate me barging into your chambers at this hour. Then you barged in here, which is really ironic…" He gave a short, somewhat forced laugh. Morgana just stared at him in disbelief. Merlin's grin vanished. "I know how you feel; I can't believe it either. To think that _you_, Uther Pendragon's ward, have magic-"

"Stop saying that!" She pushed past him and began pacing furiously in the open area in front of the fireplace that wasn't occupied by Merlin's bed, desk, or bookcases. "I cannot have magic, Merlin! I simply can't!"

"I know it's scary at first," he said soothingly. "I went through the same thing. You feel out of control, like you can't trust yourself, but it gets better once you learn to control your powers-"

"I don't want to control them!" Morgana shouted. "I want them _gone_!"

"I can't take your magic away, Morgana. It can't be done."

"I know it can't, else I would have relieved you of your magic long before now."

"You _what_?" the warlock yelped. "What did I do that made you want to kill me?"

"Nothing - I wanted to _cure_ you," Morgana explained, her wide, earnest eyes imploring him to understand.

Merlin didn't understand at all. "Why did you think I needed to be cured?"

"Because, Merlin, magic is evil. It will corrupt your soul."

"Do you really believe that, Morgana? I was born with magic. Do you think I'm corrupt?"

"I don't know!" she wailed. She had never felt so torn - exhausted and terrified, she wanted Merlin to reassure and comfort her, but instead she'd managed to hurt, offend, and push him away. "I cannot believe there is evil in your heart, nor can I disregard what I know to be true. Merlin, I'm so confused…"

He wanted badly to reach out and help her, but something held him back. After everything he'd done to make her feel welcome, happy, and safe in Dagon, all his effort at being kind and friendly to her, it hurt that she still had doubts about him - hurt so much that he couldn't make himself move closer to her. If she still didn't know what sort of man he was, maybe he'd never been close to her. "Uther taught you well," he observed. His voice came out harsh and cold, echoing the icy numbness that was creeping through his insides.

A new emotion swept through Morgana's already overtaxed mind: rage. How dare Merlin assume she was just a mindlessly obedient ward? Did he think her incapable of forming her own opinions? "You don't know what you're talking about! You know _nothing_!"

"Educate me, then." Even after she had wounded him, even with his instincts telling him to withdraw and spare himself more pain, there was a surprisingly dominant part of Merlin that wanted to connect with Morgana and understand her.

Her mind still clouded by the crimson haze of her fury, Morgana rose to his challenge unthinkingly and screamed at him, "Magic took my mother from me!"

"Your mother?" Merlin hadn't spared a thought for his fiancée's mother since the day Morgana had vehemently rebuffed his inquiry about her.

Morgana nodded jerkily. Haltingly, as if the word was being wrenched from her against her will, she spat out a name: "Vivienne. She was a sorceress…and she was unfaithful to my father. He loved her dearly and gave her everything a woman could desire, but she wasn't content with her lot. Uther said the taint of her magic poisoned her heart against her husband and compelled her to betray him."

"No doubt her lover was a sorcerer as well," Merlin said sarcastically. Trust Uther to seize any chance he got to defame the magic practitioners he hated so much.

"He must have been. Surely nothing but the lure of her own kind could have enticed her away from her lord."

"But you don't know for sure? Well, you were quite young when it happened." Merlin remembered that Morgana was only ten years old when her father perished in battle. He thought she'd become Uther's ward after Gorlois' death, which meant her mother had predeceased him - Morgana would have been even younger then, and naturally shielded from something as shameful as adultery.

"No, I wasn't."

"But-"

"Although my father could have banished or executed his wife when her indiscretion was discovered, he was too soft-hearted for his own good. He forgave her, and I was born eight years later."

"Oh." Merlin scrubbed his forehead with his knuckles as he tried to make sense of Morgana's sordid tale. It explained a lot about her distrust of magic, but there was still one gaping hole in the story. "If Vivienne wasn't cast out right away, what happened?"

"The purge. Uther began cleansing his lands of magic shortly after Arthur's birth as you know, and his holdings are so vast that for some years he was occupied with druids and village hedge witches. Once he finished with them, however, he turned his attention elsewhere. Not even lords and ladies were safe from him if they practiced magic. My father tried to protect her at first, but Uther kept reminding him of her past betrayal. Eventually he was convinced her magic would never allow her to be a faithful wife and that it would be best to put an end to her before she could be tempted into further acts that would endanger her soul. I watched her burn. I tried to turn away, but my father and Uther were there; they wouldn't let me leave, and my nurse held my arms so I couldn't cover my ears…"

"No wonder you have nightmares."

Morgana didn't seem to hear him; she was gazing into the fireplace, apparently transfixed. Merlin stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the flames. That seemed to break her trance; she blinked and looked up at his face. Her eyes were wet. Her voice, though, was remarkably steady and solemn. "I had to know the consequences of letting magic influence me so I wouldn't be led astray as she was… I am like her though, am I not?"

"You inherited your mother's magic, but that isn't a bad thing. Uther is wrong about magic's effect on people."

Morgana shook her head. "My father agreed with him in the end. He told me magic corrupts those who use it, and he would not have lied about such a grave matter. He would never have lied to me," she insisted with childish stubbornness.

Merlin realized he had to choose his next words with care - Morgana would not easily be talked out of a belief that had been instilled in her since childhood, and her view of her father was still that of a child; anything that could be interpreted as an insult to Gorlois would only serve to anger her. "I know he wouldn't have misled you on purpose, but Uther was his friend. He listened to Uther like any man would listen to his friend…and you know how Uther can be."

"I do. I've often wondered why he is so single-minded in his opposition to magic, but surely he cannot be entirely mistaken? He wouldn't have persuaded my father to let the woman he loved die for nothing…would he?"

"He was wrong about magic causing Vivienne to betray your father. Think about it; if those of us with magic were irresistibly drawn to our own kind, the Lady Sirenia never would have pursued Lancelot, who as I'm sure you know doesn't have magic. Actually-" he grimaced "-if magic attracted sorcerers to each other she and I would have already been married. I'm not saying what your mother did was right, but magic had nothing to do with her choice. For all we know her paramour might not even have had magic."

"That's true…" Morgana's face suddenly crumpled as the foundation of everything she believed about the nature of magic vanished like a rug yanked out from under her feet, and her tears began flowing. "…Meaning she needn't have died! My father's heart was broken for no reason at all, and Uther…Uther tricked him into it! How could he? They were friends… How could any man cause his friend such pain?"

Merlin automatically reached out to her, steadying her as her crying escalated. "I'm sure he didn't mean to. His false beliefs about magic just blind him to the harm he does-"

"I don't care! I hate him!" she sobbed. "He'll hate me too when he learns I have magic… No doubt he'll murder me as he murdered my mother."

Merlin held her tighter. "No he won't."

"You think not?" Morgana made a hysterical little sound that was half sob, half scornful laugh. "You said yourself that he is consumed by his hatred; he will feel no differently about me merely because I'm his ward. In fact that will probably only rile him more."

"I don't doubt it, but he isn't going to harm you. I won't allow it."

"You can't stop him."

"I can. Trust me, Morgana, Uther Pendragon is no match for me."

Morgana believed him; Merlin's demeanor had turned uncharacteristically dark, and there was a look in his eyes that riveted and even frightened her a little - a look of _power_. There was unfathomable magic behind those eyes, and if he ever unleashed it she doubted anyone in Albion could stand against him. She also doubted Uther would be foolish enough to challenge Merlin if he saw this side of the warlock, but she knew too that the king of Camelot would never allow his will to be thwarted by a sorcerer.

"What can he do about it?" Merlin asked when she told him as much.

"He can disown me. Without my connections to the house of Pendragon, the alliance that was meant to be forged through our marriage could not come to pass. You would have no reason to fight for me then."

"I still wouldn't let him kill you. I'd take you anyway, Pendragon ward or not."

"I doubt your father would let you."

Merlin snickered. "He couldn't very well stop me. After all, you're of noble blood whether Uther disowns you or not, and _he_ married a commoner."

Morgana's eyes widened.

"Didn't I tell you my mother grew up in a small village where there were no castles? Father met her after she'd left home to become a priestess and fell in love with her. My grandfather approved because she brought powerful magic to our bloodline - among the nobility in this kingdom that's considered as good a reason as any to marry someone." Merlin rolled his eyes; the nobility (including some of his own forebears) cared a little too much about their magical lineage if you asked him, and the idea of trying to breed better sorcerers as if they were horses was simply ridiculous. "Come to think of it, I could probably get Father to let me marry you for the same reason."

Morgana arched her eyebrows. "Really? I just got the impression that it isn't a valid one in your opinion."

"I think it's a stupid way of choosing who you marry," Merlin agreed. "I'm not above making use of the prevailing attitude if it gets me what I want, though."

"Dear Lord, you're serious. There really is nothing that could induce you to give me up, is there?" When he replied that there was not, Morgana said, "Merlin, as touching as I find your loyalty, you must know Uther would take it as a grave insult if he cast me out and you still married me. He might even start another war over it. What would become of your destiny with Arthur then?"

"Morgana… Since I don't have the gift of prophecy, I don't know how Arthur and I will unite Albion or even if we can… The one thing I do know is that if I turn my back on a girl who needs my help, then I'm not worthy of even attempting such a thing. I'll do whatever it takes to protect you…and I'll just have to hope Arthur will understand."

"I see. Yes, you're right of course." Morgana couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed that even as he vowed to defend her from Uther, he worried over what Arthur would think of his course of action. Then she felt embarrassed. Merlin and Arthur were friends - of course Merlin cared about his opinion, just as he cared about hers, his father's, and those of his other friends. It was incredibly selfish of her, not to mention arrogant, to expect Merlin not to care about anyone besides her.

While she chastised herself, Merlin poured himself a drink from the pitcher of water on his desk and tried to think of a way out of the mess they found themselves in. "You know, our situation may not be as dire as we're making it out to be. Yes, Uther will be outraged when he finds out his ward has magic…but what if he doesn't find out? You haven't told anyone else what you told me, have you?"

"Who else would I tell? Arthur, Gwen…I can't imagine how they would look at me…"

"Then we'll keep it between ourselves. No one else has to know - well, almost no one. Someone has to teach you to control your powers before you hurt yourself."

"Could you not do that?" Morgana had felt a huge weight fall off her shoulders when Merlin proposed keeping her magic secret; subconsciously she'd already begun to dread her friends' reactions - especially Gwen's, since magic had taken her best friend's father. Now the prospect of sharing her secret with someone else brought that fear rushing back.

"_Me_? Oh, no."

"But you're Emrys! Who knows the ways of magic better than you?"

"I know the ways of _my_ magic," Merlin gently corrected her. "Knowing something and passing on your knowledge are very different. I'm not qualified to be your teacher, but I know someone who is. She's a friend, so she might agree to train you as a favor to me even though she's not looking for a student just now."

"And is this friend trustworthy? Remember, Merlin, the more people you tell about my magic, the greater the chance of it getting back to Uther."

Merlin laughed. "Don't worry; the person I have in mind would die before breathing a word to Uther. In fact, I bet she'll enjoy teaching his ward magic behind his back. She doesn't live nearby, so traveling to her home will take some time; I should leave without delay."

"You can't! What if something else happens while you're gone?"

"I don't think you need to worry about that. Your magic is still weak enough that these accidental outbursts exhaust it for at least a day. I should return before it's recovered." Morgana still looked nervous, and Merlin couldn't think how to calm her. He'd already assured her that the likelihood of her facing another magical mishap without him was minimal; what more could he say? Of course, he knew one way of soothing frightened girls that usually worked better than words, but the wisdom of it was highly questionable. _I've already said I'll fight Uther over her if necessary - that wasn't very wise. Where was my caution and pragmatism then? To hell with it!_

He crossed the short distance between them in two long strides and, ignoring her startled exclamation, wrapped his arms around her. Morgana melted into his embrace. For the first time in days, she felt completely safe, completely secure in the knowledge that no harm could come to her while she had Merlin to shield her from it. Somehow the man even kept her inner demons at bay, and she wished they could stay here like this forever. "Merlin, I-"

Her doomed attempt at finding words to convey her feelings was cut short when Merlin kissed her forehead. His lips remained pressed to her skin for several long moments, setting her nerves afire until her brain felt cooked to useless mush. When he finally stopped kissing her, she could do nothing more than stare into his eyes like some besotted simpleton.

It occurred to Merlin, as his gaze passed over her upturned face and landed on her slightly parted lips, that he could easily kiss her mouth as well as her forehead, but he forced the notion from his mind. Kissing her while she was in such an emotionally vulnerable state would feel like taking advantage of her, and he would never do that.

Morgana was dismayed when he let go of her, then confused when he threw open his bedroom window and climbed onto its sill. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to visit my friend and ask for her help."

"You're leaving through the window?"

"Last time I tried sneaking out the other way, Gwaine caught me."

"Merlin, the fall will kill you!" But even as the words left her mouth, Merlin's body twisted and collapsed in on itself, feathers sprouted from his skin, and suddenly there was a small bird where her fiancé had stood a moment ago.

_I'll see you soon, Morgana._ Then he flew off into the night.

Morgana hurried to the window to see if she could discern in which direction he was heading, but the moonless night had already swallowed his dark-feathered form. She closed the window and sank onto the window seat where Merlin liked to read, feeling cold and lonely without him. Mostly, though, she just felt empty, drained of every last scrap of physical and mental energy by the tribulations this night had brought. The thought of walking all the way back to her chambers made her head spin…but there was a perfectly good bed only a few feet away. _Merlin isn't using it - he won't mind…_

Forcing herself to her feet, she staggered across the room and crawled into Merlin's bed, which Will had unmade just in case Merlin decided to be reasonable and get some rest. The bedclothes smelled like him, so Morgana burrowed into his pillow and pulled the covers over her head. Surrounded by warmth and Merlin's faint scent, she instantly fell into an exhausted sleep too deep for her nightmares to penetrate.

**So who's Merlin going to see? I'll give a prize to anyone who can guess. I also really want to know what you think about Morgana's reason for being afraid of what magic would do to her. Believable? I think seeing her mother burned at the stake for using magic would leave a strong impression on a little girl, and now to find out Uther's whole rationale for talking Gorlois into it was bullshit… Next time Uther and Morgana meet, it won't be pretty.**


	37. Blind In Darkness

Leagues away from the royal palace of Dagon, on the shores of a vast lake whose deep waters still shone sapphire blue despite a deep darkness that had turned everything else inky black, Merlin resumed his human form. His destination was a place of magic, yet it could not be entered by magical means. Everyone, sorcerers and supplicants, prince and peasant alike crossed the great lake in the same way or not at all. A small boat without sails or oars waited for him; it was unmoored but wouldn't have drifted off even if there had been a current that night. It only went where it was needed.

Merlin climbed in and silently commanded the boat, _Take me to the Isle._ The boat glided forward, its passage creating ripples in the lake's glass-smooth surface, through the shroud of mist that hid the Isle of the Blessed from view. Instead of running itself aground in the spot where visitors to the Isle usually disembarked, the boat took Merlin farther along the coastline, into an inlet, and beached itself there. Knowing he had reached the end of his journey, Merlin got out.

He'd never been on this part of the Isle before. During past visits he had spent countless hours in the libraries, and he had seen certain parts of the grand castle (though not the priestesses' cloisters, of course) and a stunningly beautiful flower garden where Nimueh had once taken him to meditate, but not this orchard. More fruit trees than he had ever seen in one place grew here; Merlin noticed that most of them were apple trees._ What could they want with so many apples?_

"That is a very good question, Merlin. As it happens, the fruits grown in this orchard are not of our choosing; these trees were here long before the first of our kind set foot on the isle. We do not interfere with nature's design."

Merlin turned around slowly. Leaving your back exposed to a priestess was unwise, but letting her know you were wary of her was even more dangerous. "My lady."

"Since they grow here in such abundance, it's fortunate that I like apples," Nimueh mused as she made her way through the mist-shrouded trees. When she reached the shore, she stopped to pluck an apple, raised the bright red fruit to her equally scarlet lips, and sank her teeth into it. "Delicious." Her eyes closed briefly as she savored the succulent treat, then opened again when she finished chewing. "But I'm being rude, eating this apple without offering one to you as well."

"That's all right - I already had dinner."

"Which you hardly touched." Nimueh held out her apple. "Just a bite?"

It _did_ look very appetizing, and she was right - he had merely picked at the food Will had served him hours ago - but Merlin wasn't going to let Nimueh sidetrack him this time. Not when Morgana's safety and possibly her sanity depended on him completing his errand.

"No thank you."

"Perhaps I can offer you something else then? Are you sure I can't tempt you, Merlin?" Her crimson lips curled into a devious smile, as if maybe there was more than food on her mind.

"Nimueh, please. I need your help."

Nimueh's smile disappeared, her playfulness slipping away. Her teasing always made Merlin uncomfortable, sometimes reluctantly enticed and sometimes exasperated enough that he mustered the nerve to ask her to stop, yet the almost pleading note she'd heard in his voice just now was entirely new. Whatever problem had brought him to her must be grave indeed. "Go on."

"Someone I care about has just discovered she has magic, and her powers are beyond her control. She needs somebody to help her harness them, somebody with the ability and experience to give her proper instruction."

"You would entrust your friend's welfare to me? You flatter me, Merlin."

"You're the only one I would trust with her; you did for me what no one else could. Now I ask you to do the same for her."

"If you wish me to take on this responsibility, you might at least tell me my new charge's name."

"Lady Morgana, daughter of Gorlois of Cornwall." Merlin took a deep breath and braced himself, aware that what he was about to say next might well be a huge obstacle to securing Nimueh's cooperation. "One more thing you should know: after Lady Morgana's parents died, she became the ward of…of Uther Pendragon."

Before he uttered Uther's name Nimueh hadn't exactly seemed pleased with his request, but she had at least been curious and open to the possibility. Now she became much more reticent. "That is most unfortunate for her - doubly so, because I cannot help her. I have sworn a sacred vow never to set foot in Camelot again until the scourge of Uther Pendragon and all his kind has been cleansed from the land. If I did, I feared the temptation to undertake this cleansing myself might prove too strong. Rather than seeking revenge, I have dedicated myself to protecting those of our kind who have survived these last nineteen years."

"Morgana is one of our kind-"

"Then I pity her," Nimueh said regretfully.

"-And she isn't in Camelot. Uther sent her to me and my father."

Nimueh's black eyebrows flew upward into questioning arcs. "What could have induced him to do such a thing?"

"Well, you know we aren't at war with Camelot anymore…"

"I may have heard something to that effect."

Merlin knew for a fact that word had been sent to the Isle, but maybe Nimueh had been elsewhere when the messenger arrived. Maybe she'd ignored him. "My father and Uther decided keeping the peace would be easier if I married Uther's ward," he continued, rolling his eyes. He never could get past the stupidity of political maneuvering, even now that he considered himself lucky that those maneuvers had brought him and Morgana together.

"So the Lady Morgana is your fiancée? Then perhaps she's not as luckless as I thought."

"You don't mean that."

"Oh but I do, Merlin. Maybe I even envy her a bit."

He almost brushed this comment aside as just another of the games Nimueh delighted in playing with him…yet for once she didn't sound like she was teasing him. She sounded sincere.

While he stood there wondering how to respond, or if he should respond at all, she came closer, gazing up at him - how had he never noticed how much taller than her he was now? - with ice-blue eyes that seemed close to melting. "Do you think, if things were different, you and I…"

Merlin suddenly realized how very close they were now - too close - and a warning bell went off in his head. This conversation was heading somewhere he didn't want to go; he needed to put a stop to it before something they would both regret happened. He wasn't sure what this unfortunate occurrence might be, just that it had to be forestalled. He very deliberately moved back to a more respectable distance. "Things _were_ different. All that time I spent here as your student, you must have known how I felt about you. You didn't want me then."

"You were too young. Now you're-"

"-Engaged to Morgana," Merlin finished firmly. "If I didn't know better I might wonder if you really want _me_, or if you only want what you just found out you can't have."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. It's only an arranged marriage; plenty of noblemen in such a position take a wife solely for political purposes and find pleasure elsewhere."

He shook his head, half in denial, half in exasperation - it was so like Nimueh to disregard the reproach and focus only on the words she could twist to her own purpose. "Yes, I know. It's still adultery, and that's dishonorable no matter the circumstances."

Nimueh regarded him intently for several long seconds before her lips curved into a knowing little smile. "Don't pretend this is about _honor_," she said disdainfully. She pressed her palm to Merlin's chest, over his heart. "That ward of Uther Pendragon has wormed her way in here."

Merlin winced as the hard edges of her nails poked him through his cotton shirt, but he neither backed away nor denied it. "You're right, I do care about Morgana, and I won't betray her. I'll understand if you don't want to train her now." He started to return to the lake, but she caught his arm.

"I never said that. I would like to meet her."

Merlin couldn't believe his ears. Nimueh had been wise, in his opinion, to avoid Camelot, because for all her good qualities, she had a certain penchant for vengeance. He had therefore expected a flat refusal to help the woman he'd chosen over her. In fact, he wouldn't have expected her to spit on Morgana if she were on fire.

She laughed at his incredulous expression. "A woman who's managed to hide her gifts from Uther while living in his household _and_ capture your heart must be a very rare person; I admit I'm curious about her. Besides, I would be remiss in my duty as High Priestess if I withheld my assistance from a sorceress in need of training."

"Great! Can you come to the castle tomorrow night? I know under normal circumstances I should bring her to you, it's just that she's afraid of what Uther will do if he learns of her magic, so I promised her I wouldn't let anyone find out. Questions will be asked if she disappears, so…" He trailed off, looking at Nimueh hopefully.

She smiled. "I understand; of course we must accommodate the Lady Morgana's unique situation. As your fiancée, her place is with you anyhow, not here among those of us sworn to serve none but the Goddess."

"And you won't tell anyone?"

"It'll be our little secret."

"Thank you, my lady. I'm forever in your debt." Merlin bowed and kissed her hand in gratitude, then got into the boat and sailed away from the Isle.

###

Once the mist had hidden him from her sight and her from his, Nimueh's smile faded. _How_ could Merlin have rejected her? During his time as her student he had been in awe of her, followed her around like a puppy, almost worshipped her as if she were the Triple Goddess Herself - and yes, she'd been aware of his feelings, just as he said, but returning them would have been a gross impropriety, even if she had wanted to. He was only fifteen years old at the time, after all, and she was the High Priestess of the Old Religion. Of course she wasn't interested in a mere boy.

The trouble was that he wasn't a boy anymore, and he'd become rather attractive as he grew up. At times he had even (much to her displeasure) caused her to question her decision never to take a lover, to care for nothing except her magic and her duty. She knew, however, that Merlin would not, _could_ not, settle for merely being her lover; as the future king of Dagon, he needed a queen - a wife - and Nimueh had always balked at making such a commitment. She hadn't been able to stop her playful flirting with him, though; she was just as incapable of letting him go as she was of committing herself to him fully.

While she'd always known the time would come when she would be forced to choose one path or the other, she had never imagined that the choice would be taken out of her hands - never dreamed that one day _he_ might no longer want _her_.

Back in her bedchamber, consumed with a desire to see this girl who'd stolen her favorite sorcerer's heart, she took the Crystal of Neahtid from its resting place. "Show me the Lady Morgana!"

An image appeared of an ivory-skinned, ebony-haired girl fast asleep in her bed, though the deep purple shadows under her eyes hinted at less peaceful nights in her recent past. It vexed Nimueh to see how beautiful she was despite the signs of sleep deprivation. She had an air of innocent sweetness about her too; knowing Merlin, it was that more than her physical beauty that drew him to her. She was a perfect little damsel, delicate and vulnerable, so of course he became her noble, devoted protector.

Nimueh herself had never been that innocent - even before the horrors of Uther's purge scarred and hardened her heart, she was driven by ambition and a desire for power. No wonder Merlin preferred his precious Lady Morgana.

_Enough!_ Nimueh swept her hand over the crystal as if to wipe Morgana's pretty face from its surface. The image vanished, but the crystal did not go blank; instead it began bombarding her with visions of Morgana's many possible futures. One in particular caught the High Priestess' interest and brought a darkly satisfied smile to her face. If this part of Morgana's destiny came to pass, Nimueh would happily teach her all she knew. She would even forgive her for stealing Merlin. It would be worth losing him to rid herself of a much larger thorn in her side.

###

Will received a number of surprised, even concerned glances from his fellow servants as he made his daily morning trek to his master's chambers. They were used to hearing him whistle as he went about his work, but today he was unusually silent, his normally cheerful face grim. He was worried about Merlin. The prince was so intent on putting a stop to the mysterious accidents plaguing his fiancée that he'd hardly eaten in the last two days, and Will didn't think he'd slept at all. His magic could provide the energy most people got from food and sleep when he couldn't be bothered with such mundane things as eating or resting, yet even so, Will suspected he'd pass out from exhaustion soon if he didn't pause his obsessive search for a solution to Lady Morgana's problem long enough to take care of himself.

He didn't hear any movement from inside Merlin's chambers, which scared him a little. What if Merlin really had passed out? Dropping the breakfast tray, he threw open the door and ran in, preparing himself for the worst. Instead he found the room empty, and panicked. Finding Merlin ill or unconscious would have been bad enough, but this… How could he just be _gone_? What was Will going to tell the king?

He searched the room frantically for some clue as to where Merlin might have disappeared to and saw that he wasn't the only one there after all - somebody was in the bed with the blankets pulled over their head, covering everything except a hint of black hair. Merlin must have gone to bed after all; perhaps the Lady Morgana had talked him into getting some rest. _If she managed that, I'll let her kick me out any time she wants. She can deal with His Royal Moodiness for a change._

He almost felt bad about waking Merlin up, but crown princes weren't allowed to sleep all day. Anyway, it was his own fault he was tired. "All right, sire," Will bellowed, "time to haul your royal ass out of bed!" He seized the covers, pulled them off the bed's occupant with one swift yank…and found a disoriented and disgruntled Lady Morgana blinking up at him. "You're not Merlin."

"Your powers of observation amaze me."

"What are you doing here?"

"I _was_ sleeping until I was rudely awakened. What else does one do in a bed?"

Will smirked. "Since you aren't in _your_ bed, I can think of plenty of things people might assume you were doing."

Morgana flushed. The manservant was right - he'd caught her in an extremely compromising position. Regardless of how exhausted she'd been, she should have gone back to her own chambers. "I didn't! _We_ didn't! I swear, Will, Merlin left before I fell asleep in his bed, and I know I shouldn't have - I was just so tired…"

"I guess you haven't been sleeping well lately. Still, this could ruin your reputation…"

Morgana held her breath as she waited to see what Will would do next. She thought he had warmed to her after Edwin Muirden's failed assassination attempt, but maybe he just wasn't ruthless enough to want her dead. He might still be happy to see her brought down by other means.

After giving the matter some intense thought, he said, "All right, up you get. We need to get you back where you should be before anyone finds out you haven't been there all along."

"Are you…helping me?" Morgana asked hesitantly.

"Don't get any ideas - I'm still not saying I like you or anything," Will said gruffly, "but you being found here would look bad for Merlin too. I don't want him to get in trouble when I know he'd never touch you before you're married."

"He's a man," Morgana scoffed. "This situation would not be nearly as disgraceful for him as for me."

"King Balinor would still be disappointed in him. For him that'd be worse than public embarrassment."

Finally convinced that he didn't mean to expose her - Will might not like her but his loyalty to Merlin was beyond doubt - Morgana got up and made for the door. Will grabbed her arm. "Not that way! The corridors are full of servants by now - you'll never make it without being seen!"

Yes, being spotted traipsing through the castle in her nightgown would certainly set some tongues wagging.

He dragged her over to the bookcases, moved a thick encyclopedia aside, and hit a pressure plate hidden behind it. A section of the bookcase slid away to reveal a secret passage, then slid back into place after he pulled her inside, plunging them into total darkness. They immediately tried to get out again, but were unable to find the pressure plate in the dark.

"Why didn't you bring a candle?" Morgana hissed.

"Didn't think of it. I've only ever been in here with Merlin, and he always conjured a light. I should be able to find the way without one, though. Just follow me."

"How can I follow you if I can't see you?"

"Oh, right." Will reached out for Morgana in order to guide her and took hold of what he thought was her elbow. She let out an indignant yelp; he hadn't grabbed her elbow after all. "Sorry." He slid his hand up to her shoulder, then felt his way down her arm to her wrist.

"If I didn't know better," Morgana said as he slowly led her away from the bookshelf-cum-secret entrance while groping his way along the wall with his free hand, "I'd think you planned this."

Will snorted. "You think I forgot the candle on purpose just so I could feel you up? Don't flatter yourself."

They stumbled through the narrow stone passageway for what seemed a very long time until, just as she feared they'd become hopelessly lost, he stopped short. "I think this is it."

Morgana put out a hand and felt solid stone in front of her. "Wonderful. You've led us to a dead end."

"There should be a ladder leading to a trapdoor around here, so why don't you quit your nattering and help look for it? Or are you too high and mighty to do anything useful?"

"Ha! I'll probably find it before you do." To her immense satisfaction, she did. "Ladies first," she said smugly as she climbed the ladder ahead of him. The trapdoor wasn't as heavy as she feared it might be; she easily pushed it open and emerged at last into the maid's quarters adjoining her bedchamber.

**Before you chastise me for giving Mergana scenes with Nimueh and Will instead of each other, you should know that my original draft had Nimueh kissing Merlin, but I took that bit out because I knew y'all wouldn't like it, so it could've been worse. Also, I thought Merlin would be pretty perturbed if she gave him an unwanted kiss - maybe perturbed enough to go find someone else to help Morgana, even if there's nobody else as motivated to keep her magic secret from Uther.**

**Next up: Merlin returns, Morgana and Will continue to harass each other, and hopefully we'll get to the first magic lesson.**


	38. Where In Albion Is Merlin Emrys?

**Yes, the chapter title is a riff on Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? which I used to play when I was much younger. What, it was fun.**

Morgana winced when the sunlight hit her eyes, contrasting dazzlingly with the darkness of the hidden passageway. Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she winced again at the sight of a thick coating of gray dust soiling the hem of her formerly pristine nightgown. "Ugh, it must have been filthy in there," she grumbled to herself, suddenly grateful she hadn't been able to see much of the place. It was probably infested with spiders and mice too.

"Secret passages tend to be that way," Will said as he clambered out of the trapdoor after her. "We can't have the staff going in to clean them, or they wouldn't be secret anymore."

Morgana wasn't listening to him. "I need to wash and change before Freya arrives and wonders how I came to be in such a state. Fetch me a clean shift and gown, please."

"Wha-? You want my help _dressing_?"

"Not really, but since my maid isn't here I'll have to make do with you. And I do not need help dressing. You may hang my clothes over the screen; I can put them on myself." She flounced off to attend to her toilette.

Will's face, which had turned the approximate color of a beet, reverted to its normal shade. "Oh, okay. Good. I'll get your dress."

"I want the purple and turquoise one," Morgana called out from her washroom, the perils of letting a man with Will's dress sense choose her attire having just occurred to her.

Muttering under his breath about picky noblewomen, Will stalked over to Morgana's wardrobe. His jaw dropped when he opened it and took in her vast assortment of clothing. All Merlin's outfits were basically the same with a few variations; no two dresses in Morgana's collection were the same. _What does she need all this stuff for? Why have so many dresses when you can only wear one at a time anyway? She could get by with two - wear one while the other's being washed, then switch them. So, I'm looking for something purple and turquoise…_

The wardrobe held two purple gowns, one made of heavy velvet and decorated with elaborate embroidery, the other made of silk and bare of any adornment except some gold detailing at the neckline. Neither contained a single turquoise thread as far as Will could see. After some debate, he chose the plainer silk one; he liked it better even if it didn't look quite right, having no sleeves. But then the Lady Morgana had worn a sleeveless dress for her first public appearance in Dagon, when Balinor introduced her to the court. She liked to display herself, that one.

Morgana emerged from the washroom ten minutes later, having thoroughly washed herself. Will watched her shift and gown slither over the top of the screen as she pulled them over to her side; then she stepped out from behind it, stuffed her dirty nightdress into his arms, and asked where the rest of her clothing was.

"What d'you mean, the rest of it?"

Her eyebrows arched. "My _over-gown_, Will! The turquoise one?"

"There's another layer to that thing?" That explained the lack of turquoise embellishments and sleeves. "I didn't see one."

"It's too delicate to be hung, so it's folded up in a drawer. As is the belt I like to wear with this dress," Morgana added as an afterthought.

Following her directions, Will began hunting for the missing components of her ensemble. "I did get the right dress, though, didn't I? You didn't want the other purple one?"

"I only have one purple dress."

"I saw two. The other one's a fancy velvet getup-"

"Oh, that isn't purple. It's _violet_," Morgana haughtily informed him, her tone implying that Will must be very stupid not to know the difference.

He rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. "Oh ex_cuse_ me. I never knew that since Merlin doesn't wear _violet_."

"Not yet, but I may change that. When I'm done with his wardrobe, you might have to learn the names of other colors besides black."

Before Will could retort, a sharp rapping on the window interrupted their repartee. Looking around, they discovered a bird perched on the stone ledge outside the window, tapping its beak on the glass. Morgana opened the window. "Shoo!"

Instead of leaving, the bird hopped onto her arm. She flinched in anticipation of pain, but its talons gripped her wrist very gently. It was almost like the bird was taking care not to hurt her. Morgana curiously brought it closer to her face to examine it. It was a little brown hawk - a merlin - whose eyes stared into hers with an intelligence she recognized. "Merlin?"

The hawk rose into the air with a flap of its wings, vanished, and was replaced by her prince. "Morgana."

She launched herself at him, not even caring that she was only half-dressed, and he melted into her embrace, leaning on her as if he needed support to stay on his feet. _He probably hasn't gotten much more sleep than I have these past three nights. In fact, last night he didn't get any rest at all. Poor thing must be exhausted._

"My friend agreed to help with your little problem," he murmured into her hair; then he lifted his head and peered blearily at the room's other occupant. "Will? What're you doing in here?"

"Helping your fiancée avoid a scandal. She fell asleep in your bed after you disappeared, so I had to smuggle her back here through the secret passage you showed me."

Merlin frowned down at the girl in his arms. "You slept in my bed?"

She let go of him, folded her hands in front of her, and looked down at her feet. "I…yes. I meant nothing indecorous by it - I was just too tired to return to my own-"

"Great. You won't mind if I use yours then." He gave her a quick kiss on the side of her forehead, then draped himself across the foot of her bed and was instantly fast asleep.

Morgana let out a small sigh of indignation. She knew very well how he felt and understood how impossible it was to keep going after one's endurance had been pushed past its limits, but he could have taken off his boots first. Since he didn't seem inclined to wake up and do so, she resolved to do it for him.

"What're you doing?" Will asked as she untied Merlin's bootlaces.

"What do you think I'm doing?" She tugged hard on the right boot and then, once it had parted company with Merlin's foot, peeled his sock off as well. "Ugh, how long has it been since he changed his socks? You could help me, you know, instead of standing there like a lump of wood. Or are you too high and mighty to do anything useful?"

"Are you saying I'm as useless as a lump of wood?"

"Not at all." She smirked at the manservant. "I know of several uses for wood."

Determined not to be unfavorably compared with a stick, Will set aside his armful of clothing. Together he and Morgana flipped Merlin onto his stomach and got his jacket off. This involved a lot of pushing and pulling that she thought was bound to wake the warlock, but he never showed the slightest sign of regaining consciousness. In fact, he was so unresponsive that she would have feared he'd expired if not for the fact that he was obviously still breathing.

"He won't wake for hours," Will told her when she voiced her concerns. "These last few days, he's been too worried about you to take proper care of himself; I don't think he's had anything except herbal stimulants and magic to keep him going. A powerful sorcerer can get by like that for a while, but it wears them down, and then they sleep like the dead for a long time."

"How long, exactly?"

Will shrugged. "You'll be lucky to get your bed back in time to sleep in it tonight."

###

Explaining why Merlin was passed out on her bed was certain to be awkward and likely to land him, or possibly both of them, in trouble, so Morgana simply locked up her chambers and spent the day deflecting questions about her fiancé's whereabouts. She began by intercepting Freya on her way to deliver breakfast, told the maid to serve her meal on the northeast terrace - it was too pleasant a day to be indoors - and gave her the day off, thus removing any reason she might have had for entering Morgana's quarters.

Next she had to deal with Arthur, Lancelot, and Gwaine, who inquired if she knew where Merlin was when they encountered her in the stables. "He went…ah…" Where should she say he'd gone? Anywhere in the castle was out since the men could easily catch her in the lie by verifying whether Merlin was there or not. She wracked her brain for possible destinations outside the castle walls and named the first one that came to mind. "I believe he went to the tavern."

Arthur and Gwaine were outraged at the idea of Merlin going to the tavern without inviting them along. Lancelot, however, was skeptical. "Merlin never goes to the tavern unless someone drags him."

"Well…perhaps he thought it was time to see what he's been missing."

"I've taken him to the tavern plenty of times. He already knows what it's like," Gwaine pointed out, his offended expression slowly becoming a suspicious frown as he examined Morgana's story more closely.

She shrugged. "He's a sorcerer - we can't expect him to think like a normal person, can we?"

###

Morgana subsequently had an unpleasant brush with the ever-venomous Lady Sirenia, who implied that Merlin's absence must mean he was growing tired of her and remarked that most ladies managed to hold their men's attention at least until the day after their wedding…unless they were foolish enough to let the man in question have them beforehand.

Morgana was extremely grateful at that moment that Sirenia was too arrogant to think of befriending Merlin's manservant as a way of getting to him. "Hardly; _I'm_ not the one with a reputation for chasing after a different man every week, so perhaps it is _your_ virtue that should be in question rather than mine. And," she boldly continued, "if I _had_ given myself to Merlin, he would not be tired of me afterward. I'm sorry if your suitors' interest in you has waned once they sampled everything you have to offer."

She checked that her dragon ring was still in place on her right middle finger and braced herself in case she'd just provoked the witch into attacking her, but Sirenia held herself back, though not without visible effort. Morgana breathed a sigh of relief when the red-haired enchantress walked away; while she didn't doubt that Merlin's protection spell would be able to absorb whatever offensive magic that _woman_ could produce, she'd rather not be attacked in the first place.

Not long after that, she met Balinor in the library. He also commented on how no one had seen Merlin all day and asked if she knew where he'd gone, but didn't press her further when she said she did not, for which she was thankful. Lying to Arthur, Lancelot, and Gwaine was one thing - Gwaine was just a stable-hand, and not very intimidating after she'd seen him behave like a drunken idiot, Lancelot, while a knight and Gwen's unofficial suitor, was not overly important to Morgana, and Arthur was her brother in all but blood, so of course she told him fibs all the time, especially if they had the potential to make a fool of him. Lying to a king who would one day be her father-in-law was a much more serious matter; had he chosen to interrogate her, she doubted she could have withstood him.

###

Before retiring to her chambers for the evening, Morgana made one final stop to visit Gwen. She missed her closest friend (and wanted to put off reentering her rooms as long as she could, because she really had no idea what she was going to do if Merlin was still sleeping across her bed).

Gwen's feet, though still sore, were healing fast thanks to Alice's ministrations. "Alice thinks they'll be all better by this time tomorrow," Gwen said happily, unwinding her bandages to show Morgana how much her wounds had improved. The cuts were closed but still covered with scabs and pink, tender new skin. "Right now walking is still a bit painful."

"You're supposed to be resting! You had better not be overstretching yourself," Morgana said severely.

"I haven't been, really. It's just-" Gwen ducked her head sheepishly "-I got tired of asking for help getting to the privy."

"Oh. Do you need help now, with…with that? I could…" Morgana offered uncertainly, and with no small amount of embarrassment. She hadn't considered this particular result of Gwen's feet being hurt; when she'd taken on the role of Arthur's nurse his injury had only affected one arm, so he'd never required assistance reaching the privy or with the things one did there. It was unclear which of them would've been more mortified if Morgana had had to help him with _that_.

"No, I've already been," Gwen said quickly. "I'm just looking forward to moving freely again. I understand now why Arthur became such a pain when that dragon hurt him - and he had to stay in bed much longer than me since he had broken bones. I felt sorry for him then, but even more so now that I have an idea of what he went through."

Morgana frowned. Why were they discussing _Arthur_?

"He's been to see me once or twice; other than you and Lancelot, he's the only visitor I've had. Oh, and Freya's been around to help with things I couldn't manage. He - Arthur, I mean - isn't very good at comforting people when they're hurt, but I suppose we ought to give him credit for making an effort, don't you think? He even poured me a drink of water this afternoon, can you believe it? When he said he was thirsty I almost expected him to tell me to get _him_ a drink, not ask if I wanted one too."

"That is…remarkable. For Arthur, I mean. For anyone else it would only be common courtesy."

Gwen agreed, yet Morgana saw in her friend a pronounced lack of enthusiasm for mocking Arthur and complaining about his prattish behavior the way they used to. She also noticed that, while Gwen waxed on about the improvements in Arthur's character, she had only mentioned Lancelot once, in passing. Could Gwen be losing interest in her knight?

Actually, Morgana reflected after bidding her friend good night, she wasn't sure Gwen had ever been that interested. It was always Lancelot pursuing her, after all. The fact that Gwen seemed to reciprocate might be due to her simply being too nice to reject him, or too flattered - he was a brave, honorable man, the sort most girls would love to have courting them. Gwen appeared to have a genuine affection and respect for him…yet she'd never said she was _in love_ with him.

_I may have to reevaluate my opinion on him being the perfect man for Gwen._ A frown creased Morgana's brow as she recalled how prominently Arthur had figured in their latest conversation. If Gwen was indeed losing interest in Lancelot, surely she wouldn't transfer that interest to Arthur? _No, of course she wouldn't. Gwen knows better. She's far too good for him._

Morgana reached for the doorknob in front of her and let herself into her chambers. Only after she was inside did it occur to her that she'd locked the door that very morning, so she shouldn't have been able to enter without using her key.

"Good evening, my lady."

She jumped. Merlin was perched on her dining table, wide awake and refreshed; any resemblance to the pale, gaunt man with bloodshot, bruised eyes who'd stumbled into her arms last time she saw him was nearly gone, except that he was still unhealthily skinny. "Merlin…and Freya?" The maid was in Morgana's chair, her body angled toward the prince's; they must have been deep in conversation before Morgana interrupted.

"I thought I'd better bring your dinner even if you did dismiss me for the day, so I came in and found Merlin here instead of you. You could have told me what was wrong with him, my lady; maybe I could've helped."

"I'm sure she was only doing what she thought best. I feel better anyway now that I've rested and…uh, I ate your dinner, Morgana." Merlin dropped his gaze from her eyes to her throat area. "I'm sorry. I'll swipe whatever you'd like from the kitchens."

"Can you not simply ask for more food? You are the crown prince after all."

"Where's the fun in that? Come on, Morgana, where's your sense of adventure?"

She opened her mouth to say her sense of adventure did not include sneaking around at an hour when most decent people were in bed…then Merlin turned his unbelievably compelling blue eyes on her. Minutes later she was following him through a maze of darkened corridors, her hand clasped tightly in his, and envying Freya for being too sensible to let Merlin drag her into his late-night escapades, especially when it became clear that he had more than food on his mind. "Merlin, I may be wrong - I wouldn't presume to know this castle's layout better than you - but I don't believe this is the way to the kitchens."

"You're right, it's not. We'll get your food later."

"Then where are you taking me?" Morgana asked impatiently; she was hungry, and this little jaunt seemed pointless if it wasn't going to end with her getting something to eat.

"To your first lesson in magic. Your teacher has just arrived, and we do _not_ want to keep her waiting."

**Didn't get to the magic lesson after all, but as you can see it's coming up. We did get some surprise pre-Arwen though; what do you all think of Morgana's observations on the Lancelot/Gwen/Arthur dynamics? And did you enjoy the canon reference with Morgana saying Merlin was in the tavern when no one could find him?**


	39. Touching Magic

**Hey, guys. In case you were wondering, I have not died or finally called it quits on this fic, just been super-busy getting ready for the holiday season, but now I'm back! Anyway, just wanted to assure you all that the story has not been abandoned.**

Morgana's heart skipped a beat, then resumed pumping at twice its normal speed. "She's here? Already?" she croaked, barely getting the words out of her suddenly dry mouth.

"We thought it'd be best to get started before you blow up the castle or something."

"Ah. Quite reasonable."

Finally noticing that Morgana's voice was strangely raspy, Merlin asked, "Are you nervous?"

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Merlin…what if I can't learn to control my magic? What if I have no aptitude for it?"

"Don't worry, Nimueh will be able to help you. You can't possibly be a worse student than I was."

"This Nimueh taught you as well?" Morgana wondered why he'd engaged his own mentor to teach her - surely her powers weren't comparable to his. But then, if that were the case, he could have found someone else. Nimueh couldn't be the only person he knew who was skilled in magical education. The thought of wielding magic like Merlin's was somewhat frightening, but also…enticing? _If I must be a sorceress, better to be an extraordinary one._ Everyone like the Lady Sirenia who said she didn't belong in Dagon or by Merlin's side would have to eat their words then.

"Yeah, the High Priestess doesn't normally train boys, but she said the usual rules didn't seem to apply with me…and nobody else really wanted the job," he added a bit self-consciously. "A person's magic grows as they do, and by the time I was old enough for formal training, mine was almost too much for me to handle. Sometimes it felt like the magic had a life of its own, like it used me more than I used it."

That was exactly how Morgana's dreams made her feel - like she was a mere vessel for a force greater than herself.

"Nimueh was the only one who could tame it; I would've been lost without her. I owe her a greater debt than can ever be repaid."

Morgana frowned. Merlin spoke of her with a fervent admiration bordering on reverence, and as much as she wanted to believe that was due to nothing more than gratitude, part of her couldn't help questioning whether his feelings for his erstwhile instructor ran deeper. _But he mentioned that she is the High Priestess, and becoming High Priestess of the Old Religion must take many years - decades, even - of study and hard work. With all the time required to attain such a position, Nimueh is probably a shriveled old crone by now._

Merlin led her to a spiral staircase that seemed to wind endlessly upward until finally, just when Morgana was about to demand a break from the dizzying climb, it ended at a plain, unmarked wooden door whose hinges were so old and rusted that he had to use magic to open it. "This is the tallest tower in the castle. Rumor has it that about seventy years ago the king at that time used this tower to imprison his cousin after he went mad - the cousin, I mean, not the king - but nobody's used it for anything since then. Most people think it's too much trouble to climb all the way up here, which means we're not likely to be disturbed."

Morgana doubted that confinement in the tower had been beneficial to the cousin's mental health; the room she and Merlin now stood in, while not really of claustrophobic proportions, was relatively small and depressingly bare apart from a single window. At least the window offered an extensive view - she could see the entire castle from her lofty vantage point, gleaming like an ice sculpture in the faint moonlight, and the fields and forests for miles around. What she did not see was Nimueh. She turned her back on the breathtaking panorama below and told Merlin, "Your friend doesn't appear to be here after all. Are you certain you told her where to meet us?"

"I do not need him to give me directions, child."

Morgana gasped as a shadow moved in the corner, only it wasn't a shadow, it was a figure hidden under a midnight-blue cloak. A pale hand emerged from the cloak's dark folds and pushed back the hood, revealing eyes the color of an icy lake in winter, perfectly formed lips painted deep crimson, and flawlessly clear skin framed by elaborately styled black hair. Then she unclasped her cloak and cast it aside, leaving her in only a rather revealing red dress that showed off her svelte physique.

If Morgana had still been fooling herself that there was any justice in the world, one look at Nimueh disillusioned her forever, because it really wasn't fair for every last one of Merlin's female friends to be so beautiful. _Why doesn't he know any fat, old, ugly women?_

"Greetings, Lady Morgana. I am Nimueh, High Priestess of the Old Religion."

"Pleased to meet you," Morgana lied, forcing her lips into a smile that felt more like a grimace.

"Likewise. Now," Nimueh commanded in a businesslike tone, "describe how your powers have manifested."

Taken aback by the High Priestess' efficiency - she'd thought a priestess would have more of an air of mysticism - Morgana opened and closed her mouth soundlessly and looked at Merlin, who took charge of the exposition. "So far she's demonstrated some skill with levitation, applying force to objects - she broke all the glass in her chambers night before last - and fire."

Nimueh raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Impressive. And she's never had any training at all?"

"None." Merlin glanced at Morgana, who confirmed his assertion with a nod.

"That's not all. I have terrible nightmares, and sometimes…sometimes the things I see in my dreams come to pass."

"You never told me you were a seer."

She shot her fiancé an apologetic look. "I've told no one. I've been living with this secret for years, and I suppose the habit of concealing it has become rather entrenched. Once I realized I could see the future, it didn't take a vision to tell me what my future would hold if Uther learned the truth of my nightmares."

Merlin nodded sympathetically and gave her shoulder a supportive squeeze. Then Nimueh cleared her throat, and he quickly took his hand off her. "We shall begin our work with your visions, then, since the Sight seems to be the strongest element of your powers. Sit down."

Morgana wanted to protest that there were no chairs, but Merlin and Nimueh simply sat on the floor - chairs were apparently a luxury, not a necessity. She reluctantly joined them, folding her legs to the side and arranging her skirts around her.

Nimueh waited impatiently for Morgana to get situated, then continued, "The first step in gaining control of your powers is learning to call forth the magic inside you at will. Magic is the core of your being, your soul; you must block out all external distractions and seek it within yourself."

"How might I do that?"

"Close your eyes."

Morgana wasn't at all sure she wanted to close her eyes and leave herself blind and vulnerable in Nimueh's presence. She glanced sideways at Merlin, who offered her a reassuring smile that made her trepidation seem foolish; of course he wouldn't encourage her to obey Nimueh's directions if doing so would put her in danger.

"Close your eyes," Nimueh repeated more forcefully. Morgana took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. "Relax. Breathe out." Morgana expelled her breath in a rush of air, her chest deflating like a suddenly emptied waterskin. "Breathe in slowly, deeply - _relax_. Clear your mind of everything outside yourself. Some find it helpful to choose a single thing to focus on, a word or an image. Let yourself get lost in it…"

Morgana tried, but her thoughts raced off in every direction like a stampede of wild horses. How was she supposed to pick one thing to focus on? _A word or an image, she said…_ She remembered becoming very absorbed in reading, so she decided to try a page from her favorite book…but which one? And she couldn't recall every single word on the page-

"Too complicated," Nimueh chided, making Morgana's eyes pop open. "The thing you focus on is only meant to aid you in clearing your mind, not to be an end in itself. You should not have to concentrate so hard on forming the picture in your mind. Choose something simpler."

Morgana looked at Merlin, hoping he might have a helpful suggestion or at least tell Nimueh to stop scolding her, but unlike her, he appeared to have succeeded in blocking out external distractions - his eyes were closed and he didn't seem to have heard anything Nimueh had just said. As she stared at the network of tiny veins lacing Merlin's eyelids and wished they would open, inspiration struck. Morgana had gotten lost in Merlin's eyes several times before, and they were much easier to call to mind than words on a page. She closed her eyes again, relaxed, regulated her breathing, and let the deep blue of Merlin's eyes fill her mind. She imagined sinking into that bottomless blue, falling deeper and deeper…

And then there was a bottom, something she'd just noticed but which felt as if it'd been there all along, a hint of something gold under all the blue. If the endless blue Morgana had let herself fall through was like an ocean - and her first thought when she saw Merlin's eyes was that they reminded her of the sea - maybe this was treasure from a sunken ship? Some distant part of Morgana's mind argued that there was something wrong with this metaphor, that she wasn't imagining an actual ocean and therefore sunken treasure had no place in it, but she refused to be distracted and pressed on toward the alluring golden light.

The light grew and brightened as she drew closer to it, until it felt as though she was standing right in front of it, within it, and it was no longer a soft, pretty glow; it was a towering wall of fire, a raging inferno that reached out, licking her with a thousand flaming gold tongues. Morgana screamed and jerked away, desperate to escape before the flames consumed her.

Her screams shattered the meditative atmosphere in the tower room; Merlin's eyes snapped open just in time for him to see Morgana throw herself backward onto the floor with her hands covering her face as if to ward off a blow. He pulled them away and pinned her arms at her sides, but she thrashed against his hold and kept screaming, her eyes still shut tightly, so he did the only thing he could think of to disrupt her fit: he transferred both of her wrists to one hand and used the other to slap her. "Morgana, open your eyes! Look at me!"

She stopped screaming and her eyes, wide with fright, shot open. "Merlin? Oh, Merlin, thank God you're here!" He pulled her off the floor, into his arms, and she clung to him, shaking like a leaf.

"Well, I think we've made excellent progress for just one night." Nimueh sounded highly satisfied.

By contrast, Merlin's voice was full of a blistering anger that made Morgana cringe even though it wasn't directed at her. "Progress? You call scaring her wits out of her _progress_?"

"Of course - although it took her some time, she found the magic inside her, something not many manage on their first try. Her reaction was unusually extreme, though; I've never seen anything like it. What did you see in your mind that frightened you so, child?"

Morgana shook her head and burrowed deeper into Merlin's chest, but after a lot of coaxing he and Nimueh finally got her to describe the mental manifestation of her magic.

"Hmm." Nimueh rocked back on her heels as she considered this. "Interesting that you choose to visualize your magic as something you fear. Incidentally, why are you so afraid of fire? Did you burn yourself while playing in the kitchens as a child?"

"That's none of your business." The trauma of witnessing her mother's horrific death was such that it had taken all of Morgana's inner strength to tell Merlin about it; she was not going to rip that wound open again for Nimueh. "And I did not choose to visualize anything! Why would I torment myself so?"

"That I cannot answer, but you seem very adept at tormenting yourself, Lady Morgana. Everything you saw was of your own making; neither Merlin nor I influenced it in any way. Perhaps you ought to work on making peace with yourself before we try again."

"No!" Morgana scrambled to her feet. "I will not attempt this again! I am done with magic!"

Nimueh laughed so hard she had to wipe a tear from her eye. "Say that all you like, child, but I believe magic is far from finished with you." Morgana gathered up her skirts and fled the tower. "Your fiancée is quite intractable," Nimueh said to Merlin as they listened to her footsteps descend the tightly winding spiral staircase. "I wish you luck with her - I fear you'll need it."

"I can handle Morgana; it's easier if you aren't mean to her," Merlin said pointedly.

"You knew when you engaged my services that it is not my way to coddle my students," Nimueh replied dismissively. "I never coddled you."

"I wasn't brought up to fear my gifts; I _wanted_ to learn from you. Morgana has a lifetime of Uther's misguidance to overcome before she's ready to do that."

"That is your problem, not mine. I will train Morgana in our ways, but I am not her friend - her success or failure matters little to me, which is why you came to me rather than attempting to teach her yourself. Your feelings for her cloud your judgment, Merlin, but her feelings for you will let you do what I cannot and help her past whatever emotional hurdles stand in her way."

"Are you sure about that? What if…what if Uther's attitude toward magic is too much a part of her?" There was a long pause in which Merlin and Nimueh stared silently into each other's faces, and then he asked the question he really wanted - yet feared - the answer to. "What will happen to her if I can't convince her she needs to learn magic?"

"Her magic is too strong; she cannot continue to repress it. If she does not master it, it will manifest destructively as it has been doing, and I daresay it will eventually destroy her," Nimueh said with the same air of nonchalance she would show when discussing the weather.

Merlin was dismayed, worried for Morgana, and irritated. He hadn't expected Nimueh to like Morgana or even pretend to be her friend, but he thought she might at least care how it would affect him if Morgana's unrestrained magic hurt her. "Your compassion is really heartwarming, Nimueh, you know that?" Not giving her a chance to respond, he stalked out of the tower after Morgana.

**So here we have Morgana's first magic lesson, and things are off to a rocky start. What a surprise, eh? If anyone's read the Sword of Truth series and thought Nimueh's advice on how to meditate and get in touch with your magic sounded a lot like what Sister Verna taught Richard in Stone of Tears, that's because it seemed to me like a perfectly good way to learn magic, so I kinda borrowed the idea.**

**I hope all of you have a very merry Christmas, or if you don't celebrate Christmas, then enjoy the holiday of your choice. Happy Holidays/New Year, everyone!**


	40. A Lesson In Magic

By the time Merlin reached the bottom of the stairs leading up into the tower, Morgana was nowhere in sight. He assumed she'd gone back to her chambers, or to find something to eat if she hadn't lost her appetite, and refrained from pursuing her. She needed time to calm down before he talked to her about continuing her magic lessons, so he would wait until the following day before bringing it up.

Unfortunately, the next time he saw Morgana she was in the company of Arthur; there was no way they could discuss her magic in front of him.

"Ah, Merlin - just the man I've been looking for!" The blond wrapped his arm around Merlin's neck in what could either be a friendly gesture or the beginning of a chokehold. "I heard something very interesting, _Mer_lin. A little bird told me you were in the tavern yesterday, and since no one saw you all day, you must have spent quite a bit of time there."

"No, I didn't. Honestly, Arthur, you should know birds aren't a reliable source of information. If a bird told you I was in the tavern, someone probably enchanted it so they could have some fun at your expense."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course I would know better than to listen to a talking bird if there were such a thing. What do you think I am, an idiot?"

"Well…"

"It was a figure of speech! The point is that if you wanted to go to the tavern, you could have asked your friends if they'd like to go along."

Exasperated, Merlin threw Arthur's arm off. "I wasn't in the tavern, Arthur! I haven't gone anywhere near the tavern in weeks!"

"That's not what Morgana said."

"_Morgana_ told you I went to the tavern?" Merlin raised his eyebrows at the lady, who seemed to be trying to melt into the scenery. "I wonder where she got such a ridiculous idea."

"Well, I…I may have been…mistaken. I just saw Merlin going into the town and assumed he was heading for the tavern," she fibbed, "but I never actually saw him enter it. He could have been going somewhere else."

"So where were you going if not to the tavern?" Arthur demanded.

"Nowhere special. I just wanted to be alone. It's hard sometimes, being the prince, everyone watching every move you make. Sometimes I just want to get away from it all." That was the truth, even if it wasn't true in this particular case.

Arthur nodded understandingly, but his disapproving frown didn't go away. "Well, you could have at least told me where you were going. I could've gone with you."

"I said I wanted to be alone," Merlin repeated slowly. "Taking you with me would have defeated the purpose."

"You still shouldn't run off without telling anyone! It's very irresponsible, not to mention dangerous!"

"Worried about me, Arthur? I never knew you cared. Now if you'll excuse me, I need a private word with the Lady Morgana."

"I shouldn't let you do that. You and she aren't really supposed to be alone together until after the wedding," Arthur said somewhat awkwardly. Now that he'd come to know Merlin fairly well he believed Morgana's virtue was safe with him, but it was still his duty as her chaperone - the proxy for her guardian - to ensure that her honor was beyond reproach when the time came for her to be married.

"Well, you can stand here and watch us if you want," Merlin said impatiently, "but I really need to speak with her." He took her arm and pulled her a few yards down the garden path, out of Arthur's earshot but still within his sight.

"Merlin, what-?"

"You need to reconsider what you said last night."

"I said many things last night, so I don't know what you're talking about."

"When you said you were done with magic - you need to reconsider that."

"No. I mean it, Merlin; touching my magic was- It was terrifying. I never even wanted to practice magic in the first place, and I refuse to put myself through that ordeal again!"

A middle-aged lord and lady strolled past, pausing their lighthearted banter about the beautiful weather to greet their prince. Merlin's reply was polite but brief, making it clear he wasn't in the mood to chat, and they moved on. Once they were at a sufficient distance, he leaned closer to Morgana and asked in a low, forceful voice only a notch above a whisper, "Was it more terrifying than nearly being burned alive in your bed? Was it worse than causing Gwen to get hurt when she stepped on the glass you broke? If you don't learn to master your magic, accidents like that will keep happening. You'll keep hurting people, until one day you hurt yourself!"

"Stop it!" Morgana wanted to turn away, to block out what he'd said, but he had a tight grip on her upper arms and wasn't letting her move an inch. "You're scaring me!"

"I'm sorry, Morgana; I don't want to scare you, I just want to make you see that this is something you need to do." He was on the verge of stopping there - she hadn't given any sign of agreeing with or even considering his position on the matter, but all he wanted to do was soothe whatever pain he'd caused her and reassure her that everything would be all right - but then Nimueh's words came back to him. _Your feelings for her cloud your judgment._ She was right, so he steeled himself and went on, "If I have to scare you in order to do that, I will, just don't ask me to stand by and watch you get hurt. That's the one thing I refuse to do."

"I won't get hurt," she argued with all the certainty of the blindly faithful. "You'll protect me."

"Damn it, I can't protect you from this! If it were a monster or something else I could fight for you, you know I would, but I cannot control your magic! Only you can do that! Believe me, Morgana, if I could take this all away and let you live as a normal girl I would do it, no matter what price I had to pay, but you know it's impossible. I can't fix this."

Morgana couldn't bear to see him look so sad, so…frightened? He was actually afraid for her? She hugged him and, standing on her toes to put her mouth up to his ear, murmured, "Very well, if it's truly so important to you, I'll give magic another try."

"You will?" Merlin was visibly relieved when she nodded. "Great! We'll meet Nimueh in the tower again tonight."

She almost regretted consenting to another lesson when she heard that Nimueh would be part of it, but the enthusiasm with which he returned her hug made it all worth it…until Arthur butted in. "All right, I'm glad you've resolved your lovers' spat, but that's enough."

"For pity's sake, Arthur, it was only a hug. It's not as if Merlin was about to deflower me right here in the garden!"

"Oh, I have no doubt of that; I was just afraid I might vomit if I had to watch your little display of affection any longer. I mean, since it's you."

"Poor Arthur - it must be hard realizing you're not the only man in my life anymore," Morgana mocked him.

"I really couldn't care less about that. I just can't figure out what a sensible, upstanding fellow like Merlin sees in _you_."

###

That night, Merlin and Morgana made the exhausting climb into the castle's tallest tower once more. Once again, Nimueh was waiting when they got there. "We're going to try something different tonight," she announced briskly. "You have already learned how to touch your magic; now we must bring it under your control. To do that, you need to visualize it as something less threatening. Last night you reported that it manifested in your mind as a raging fire - tonight you will tame that fire."

"How?"

Nimueh explained what she wanted Morgana to do; then they all sat down to meditate. Morgana let herself sink into the deepest recesses of her consciousness again, but this time she was ready for what awaited her there. When she found the golden flame that was her magic, instead of heeding the petrified inner voice screaming at her to withdraw, she pushed herself closer to it. _It isn't a real fire. It's all in my head - it's a part of me - and it can't hurt me unless I let it. I am the mistress of my magic, _not_ the other way around!_ She reached into the blaze and found to her delight that it didn't burn her. Instead she felt a profound sense of joining with a missing piece of herself, as if a limb that had been torn off was reattached. Only now that she had it back did she realize she hadn't been complete without it. Merlin was right; magic was in her very soul, and trying to deny that simple fact was as futile and stupid as cutting off her own hand. This was who she was.

She drew a thin thread of fire out of the inferno, just enough to light a candle, and pulled her mind back to the physical world, keeping a tight hold on the thread. Her eyes flashed gold as they opened, and the candle sitting on the floor in the middle of the circle she, Merlin, and Nimueh formed when they sat down lit up.

"You did it!"

Looking around at her companions, Morgana concluded that they hadn't been meditating at all; they had been watching her but pretending not to so as not to make her feel pressured. She was well accustomed to feeling eyes on her, of course, but never in circumstances like these, so she was grateful for their thoughtfulness. "It seems I did," she agreed, sounding far more subdued than Merlin. Her brain felt like a wrung-out washrag. She did, however, manage a tired smile for her prince.

The candle sputtered and died, and so did Morgana's smile. "You were too quick to congratulate me, Merlin. I may have lit the candle, but I couldn't keep it burning."

"You don't have to keep it burning; a sorcerer _can_ keep a fire alight with only their mind, but mostly we just use our magic to set fire to a candle or kindling and then let it burn on its own. That way uses up less of your energy."

Nimueh nodded her agreement. "Morgana wasn't able to sustain the spark long enough for the wick to catch fire. Her magic must still be too weak to affect the world around her."

Morgana's face fell further - Nimueh had just made her feel even worse about her abilities.

"Lighting a candle was not the objective, though; it was only an outlet for the magic you summoned. The true purpose of this exercise was to help you see how your magic bends to your will once you begin to assert control over it. You felt that, did you not?"

Morgana nodded, her spirits lifting as she remembered the exhilaration of finally feeling at one with herself, of not fearing the power inside her.

"Good. Now we can begin teaching you how to use it. You may not be able to impose your will on the physical world yet, but you have shown yourself capable of mastering your own mind, so we'll focus our efforts in here-" Nimueh tapped Morgana's forehead with a long, perfectly manicured nail "-starting with your Sight. Let's see if we can't stop your nightmares for good, shall we?"

###

The tower room underwent a change the next night when Nimueh gathered all the dust and cobwebs of the past seven decades (there was a substantial amount of both) with a wave of her hand and transformed it into several large, fluffy cushions. "How did you do that?" Morgana gasped, wide-eyed with amazement.

Merlin was significantly less impressed. "She's the High Priestess, Morgana - she could do a transmutation like this in her sleep, with both hands tied behind her back."

"Then why hasn't she done so before now? It would have made the room much cleaner, not to mention making us more comfortable if we'd had these to sit on."

"We don't need soft cushions to sit on," Nimueh said with slight disdainful sniff, "but I was quite certain you would balk at lying on a dirty stone floor."

"You want me to lie down?"

"That was implied, was it not? You said you have only had visions while you sleep, so for this lesson you will have to be asleep or in a similar state. Most people find it difficult to fall asleep while sitting up."

Morgana cast a dubious look at the grouping of cushions. "Even if I can get to sleep here, there's no guarantee I will see anything. Some nights I just have ordinary dreams, and on a few blessedly rare nights I have no dreams at all."

"Well, tonight you shall learn how to have visions whenever you want them, which should reduce the unwanted ones. I cannot promise you will never have another unasked-for vision - the Sight ebbs and flows like the tides, and those of us who have been blessed and cursed with this power can no more exercise total control over it than we can the sea - but once you understand your gift better, what visions do come to you unexpectedly should be less frightening. You don't have them every night because untrained seers typically only foresee momentous events, or those that will alter the course of their own lives, though there are some who are never able to see their own future."

"I have seen things that affect me," Morgana put in.

Nimueh barely acknowledged this information; it wasn't terribly important what kind of seer Morgana was. "Lie down, child."

Morgana obeyed, first sitting on the cushions and then hesitantly lowering herself onto her back and gazing up Nimueh and Merlin. It felt strange and even somewhat discomforting to lie on the floor with them hovering over her. How was she supposed to relax enough to sleep?

"Begin as if you were meditating, but when you touch your magic, do not attempt to draw it out. Maintain your contact with it and relax," Nimueh instructed her. "Open your mind. The Sight is so deeply woven into your nature that I'm sure your magic will show you something if you allow it to."

"What will it show me?" Morgana asked breathlessly. She was not eager for another of the glimpses of battle and bloodshed that her Sight usually inflicted on her.

Nimueh shrugged, her shoulders shifting under the thin straps of her dress. "Who can say? Now close your eyes. Merlin, give her some space - she won't relax with you leaning over her."

He started to pull back, but Morgana's hand shot out and grabbed his. "Don't go, Merlin. I want you to stay."

He smiled and laced their fingers together. "As you wish, my lady."

Satisfied, Morgana closed her eyes and descended a third time into the now familiar meditative trance. Getting in touch with her magic was initially unsettling, though this time it was easier to push down the instinctive, irrational surge of terror and step into the blazing gold light. She noticed that while her magic burned as brightly as ever, it seemed less like a wildfire, less frantic to consume her than it had the first time she sought it out. Now it approached her like an animal wanting to be petted and enfolded her like a warm blanket.

She let it wrap around her, not making any effort to tamp it down or spin it into manageable little threads, just letting it flow through her mind however it wished. _Show me something. Anything._ Her magic didn't respond, and she recalled Nimueh telling her she had to passively open her mind and allow the visions to come to her. Passivity had never ranked among Morgana's strongest qualities - she was a woman of action, and just letting things happen to her had never been her way, but she tried. She forced herself to be calm and accepting, not demanding.

After a while of this, just when she thought she might truly fall asleep - at least she would come out of this lesson well-rested for once rather than mentally exhausted - she noticed that the ethereal light of magic surrounding her had changed into plain old sunlight. She sat up and found that she was in her bed. It was morning, and the opening door signaled the arrival of breakfast.

Gwen entered, walking a little gingerly as if her feet were still sore but wearing a smile brighter than the morning sun. "Good morning, my lady."

"Gwen! You're back?"

She nodded happily, her dark curls bouncing. "It's good to be back." She set the breakfast tray down and crossed over to the bed to hug her mistress. "Come on, Morgana, it's time to get up…"

"…Morgana?"

Morgana blinked. It was suddenly dark, she was lying on her back again, and Merlin was shaking her. Gwen was nowhere in sight.

"Did it work? Did you see anything?" Merlin asked.

"I should hope so, as long as we've been here," Nimueh said dryly.

"How long has it been?" Morgana inquired, still struggling to get her bearings. It was often hard to reorient herself after a prophetic dream - they were so vivid that the line between premonitions and reality became blurred.

"We've been at this almost five hours," Merlin replied.

Five hours. So it was still the same night. Morgana's face broke into a huge smile as she realized what had happened - after years of being afraid of them, taking potions and doing everything else she could to shut them out, she, Lady Morgana, had intentionally had a vision.

**Well, here we have Morgana making some progress with her magic, and I hope you guys don't think I'm moving that along too fast. My reasoning is that she's supposed to be some kind of magical prodigy - she had useful (when they weren't just scaring the living daylights out of her) visions without even trying, once she started learning magic her powers were on a level that let her live through fights with Merlin and even hold her own somewhat, and she mastered the aging spell, which was apparently a great magical achievement (though not in my story, because I can think of cooler uses for magic than making yourself look like an old geezer). Seriously, I can just imagine that magic lesson:**

**Nimueh: And now that you've mastered precognition, telekinesis, transmutation, and the enchantment for perpetually tangle-free hair, we'll move on to the next level…turning yourself into a doddering old lady!**

**Morgana: Um, why the hell would I want to be wrinkled and arthritic? I get how it could be useful as a disguise, but it's not like I'm trying to, oh, infiltrate and take over Camelot or anything.**

**So yeah, no aging spells here. Anyway, my original point was that Morgana is a powerful witch, so I think it makes sense that she would advance quickly, plus I didn't want to write a lot of her trying, failing, and getting more discouraged and soured on the idea of learning magic. I want to keep this thing moving forward.**


	41. Friendship Is Magic

**This title should make all the My Little Pony fans out there happy. What will make you less happy: this is a Morgana-less chapter. After all the recent Mergana development, I wanted to give Arwen and Fraine a little screen time, with bonus character growth for Prince Prat and Gwaine the barfly. **

**Warning: includes mentions of public nudity. It's all in a humorous context, unless you're tired of jokes at Gwaine's expense.**

Gwen returned to work in the morning, just as Morgana had foreseen, and was warmly received by the lady, who told her that the business with things catching fire and exploding in her bedchamber had been resolved. Gwen was relieved to hear it and thought things could now get back to normal, but during the course of the next few days she noticed a change in her mistress. For one thing, Morgana never told her who was behind the magical vandalism. She was also secretive and distant in a way she'd never been before, and once or twice Gwen caught Morgana watching her with a very strange expression on her face. All efforts to find out what was troubling Morgana were deflected or outright rebuffed, however, which caused Gwen no end of distress.

When at last she decided she could no longer keep her concerns to herself, the first person she thought of sharing them with was Merlin. Not having been confined to bed for three days, he'd had many more chances to observe Morgana and had perhaps discerned the cause of her sudden shift in demeanor; if not, perhaps she'd confided in him as she refused to do with Gwen. After all, it was only natural for her fiancé to take the uppermost place in her affections, even over her best friend. Gwen therefore sought out Merlin at her earliest opportunity.

According to Will, who was cleaning Merlin's chambers when Gwen stuck her head in to look for him there, the prince had gone for an early morning ride and, if he'd returned, could probably be found in the stables. "Gwaine will be there too, so if you want to speak with Merlin alone, you'd best take Freya with you." Will winked at Gwen. "She'll be able to get Gwaine out of your way."

Freya was none too pleased about being dragged out to the stables to serve as a distraction for Gwaine, but she agreed when Gwen promised to take over their least desirable duty - washing Morgana's undergarments - for the week in exchange. She went in first, spied Gwaine and Merlin brushing horses, and lured Gwaine out by asking him to take a walk with her.

He readily agreed, and they strolled out into the meadow beyond the palace walls. It was gorgeous land, carpeted with lush green grass and colorful wildflowers; the only thing more beautiful was Freya in her dark green dress and black vest with colorful floral embroidery. Her attire almost made her look like part of the scenery, and she seemed somehow more alive here, amidst the kind of natural beauty she grew up with, than when she was surrounded by the castle's stone walls and all its artificial, manmade splendor. While Gwaine would have been content to admire her all day, eventually he had to ask why she had pulled him away from his work for a pleasurable but purposeless walk. It wasn't like her.

"Oh, well…Lady Morgana wanted me to tell you that the stable hands need to be more thorough with polishing Justinia's tack. It isn't shiny enough, and she wants to be able to see her face in it."

Gwaine stopped and turned to face Freya. "You are a terrible liar. You didn't have to bring me out here to tell me that. I know what you're really up to."

"You do?" Freya asked nervously. Why had she let Gwen talk her into this? Washing a hundred pairs of underpants dirtier than Morgana's ever were would be preferable to Gwaine's knowing smirk as he caught her failing miserably at subterfuge.

"Of course. If you wanted the pleasure of my company so badly, all you had to do was ask."

"What? You think I wanted to _flirt_ with you?"

"Back when the wyverns invaded, you said if I got the king back before they razed the city to the ground, you'd kiss me," Gwaine reminded her. "You're obviously attracted to me, even though you insist on denying it."

"I said I would _consider_ kissing you," Freya shot back, "and since the next time I saw you was at the feast celebrating Merlin and Morgana's engagement and you were drunk, like always, I decided not to. I do like you, Gwaine, but you drink too much, and it turns you into a loud-mouthed, ill-mannered troublemaker."

By the time she finished, Gwaine's mouth was hanging open. Yes, he was fond of his liquor, and he was aware he occasionally consumed it to excess, but that had never been a problem for him. Drinking had never seriously impeded his ability to do what he had to do to get by, or to entice whoever he fancied into his bed - until now. Freya wasn't like the girls he usually pursued; she was the kind of girl he might actually want to settle down with - the kind of girl that could actually make settling down appealing - unlike the tavern harlots who lost their allure after a single night. She seemed immune to the superficial charm that had served him so well in the past, though, and after months of knowing her, Gwaine was starting to realize that if he ever wanted to get anywhere with her, he might have to make some serious changes in his lifestyle.

"Are you saying you'd like me better if I drank less?" he asked.

Freya nodded. "You're also an entirely indiscriminate flirt when you're drunk. I can't take you seriously knowing you could just as easily be chasing after some other girl if she happened to be standing there instead of me."

"I'll keep that in mind at the next feast, then. Look, there's your favorite spot." He pointed ahead to a pond whose wind-ruffled surface sparkled in the sunlight. "Smaller than the lake you grew up with but almost as beautiful, right?"

"I can't believe you remember I said that."

"It's also a good place for a swim, isn't it?"

Freya concurred and agreed to go swimming with him on the condition that they undressed on opposite sides of a nearby weeping willow, and she would enter the water first so she could make sure he kept his eyes closed until she was submerged.

Just as Gwaine finished disrobing, Freya poked her head around the tree, frowning. "How did you know this was a good place for swimming? I just remembered I never told you that."

"No, but you've done it before."

Her dark eyes narrowed. "How would you know? Gwaine, did you spy on me?"

"Not exactly - Merlin, Will, and I were out riding and looking for a good place to stop for lunch when I spotted your dress hung over a branch and figured you must be swimming in the pond. Will bet ten coppers that Merlin wouldn't notice a naked girl right in front of him if he had his nose in a book, and I said there was no way any man could do that, even him, so we got him to sit under the tree and gave him something to read, and sure enough, when you came out of the water he didn't notice. Worst bet I ever made."

Freya's eyes were now catlike slits of fury. She recalled that incident, having thought at the time that a very inconvenient coincidence had caused Merlin to sit and read so close to where she'd left her clothes. She never imagined that her other friends had put him there as part of some stupid wager. "So you thought it'd be funny to make me parade around naked for everyone to see, did you? Let's see how you like it."

Gwaine suddenly found himself soaring through the air. He landed in the pond with a huge splash and surfaced just in time to see Freya storming toward the citadel. She appeared to be taking all his clothes with her, leaving him nothing to cover or dry himself with when he made it back to the shore. _Well, this is an unfortunate turn of events._

###

Left alone in the barn with him after Gwaine and Freya departed, Gwen approached Merlin. "Excuse me, sire, I wonder if I might speak with you."

Merlin glanced up from the chestnut tail he was combing. "You are talking to me."

"Well, yes, I am, but having this particular conversation would be easier if you weren't looking at a horse's hindquarters."

He finally put the wooden comb aside. "Oh, so this is something serious. Does it have anything to do with Freya suddenly wanting to go for a walk with Gwaine? You put her up to it to get rid of him?" Blushing, Gwen nodded. "Poor Gwaine. So what's on your mind?"

Gwen leaned forward, resting her elbows on the stall's half door. "I'm worried about Morgana, my lord."

"Why? Has she been having nightmares again?"

"No, in fact she's never slept better in her life than she has this past week. It's just that she… Ever since I came back to work, she's been different. We aren't as close as we once were, and every time I try to confront her about it or remind her that I am her friend, she turns me away."

"I'm sorry, Gwen, but these things happen. People grow apart-"

"That is _not_ what's happening to us!" Gwen burst out. Merlin's eyes widened - he'd never before heard her raise her voice - but she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment. "Morgana and I are not drifting apart; it's as if there's something hanging in the air whenever I try talking to her as her friend rather than her maid, pushing its way between us, it's… It's as if she no longer trusts me. I just wondered if you had noticed these changes in her as well, and if perhaps you'd had better luck uncovering the reasons behind them since you seem closer to her than ever." Gwen couldn't keep herself from sounding bitter, which she was, just a little. Just because Morgana was soon to be married, it shouldn't mean she had to cast aside someone who'd been her devoted friend since childhood.

Merlin leaned on the door beside Gwen, mirroring her pose - being much taller, he had to hunch over to do so - and gazed almost pityingly at her. Gwen hated it. "I really am sorry. Morgana says all the time that you're the best friend she's ever had, and I know she hates feeling like she can't trust you with everything-"

"But _why_ can't she trust me? What have I done!"

"Nothing. Believe me, Gwen, none of this is your fault. Not that it's Morgana's fault either; sometimes something happens that isn't anybody's fault but still drives even the best of friends apart because maybe one person thinks if they were completely honest about what happened, the other person wouldn't understand and might not want to be their friend anymore. Do you see what I mean?"

"Not at all," Gwen admitted, in case her expression of perplexity wasn't answer enough. "Whatever it is you know, why can't you simply tell me instead of speaking in riddles?"

"Because that would mean betraying Morgana's confidence." The grave finality in his tone made it clear that any further inquiries would be pointless - whatever secrets Morgana had shared with him, Merlin would take them to his grave. Seeing Gwen's look of dissatisfaction, he added, "I can tell her you've noticed the change in her and it's hurting you, but I can't promise anything. Morgana's been through a lot recently-"

"She and I have been through a lot _together_," Gwen said indignantly, interrupting him yet again. "I've helped her through some of the worst times of her life, and she's done the same for me. There was never any secret she couldn't share with me until she met you. I don't know if this is your influence or not, but I don't like it one little bit." Then she rushed out in a whirl of lavender skirts before she could regret being so confrontational with a prince who was also a sorcerer, or he decided to turn her into a toad.

Making it out of the stable with her original form still intact - or so she thought; at least she hadn't felt any spells hitting her in the back - she walked quickly but aimlessly across the courtyard, blinking hard to stem the tears that threatened to seep from her eyes. Despite Merlin's attempt at comforting her, if that was really what he'd been doing, she felt like she was losing her best friend, and there didn't seem to be anything she could do about it.

"Ooof!"

Gwen had stalked right into some man's broad, muscular chest, and while he grunted at the impact, it was she who was knocked backward. Luckily, the man caught and steadied her. "Guinevere?" It was Arthur.

"S-sorry, sire, I wasn't watching where I was going," she sniffed.

"Are you _crying_?"

Gwen ducked her head to hide those few traitorous tears that had escaped. "No."

"Yes, you are." Seizing her arm gently but firmly, Arthur steered her over to a stone bench and set her down on it. "Tell me what's upset you."

Though worded as an order, the request was uttered with such genuine friendly concern that Gwen found herself complying, not because Arthur was a prince who had asked something of her, but because she felt he might actually want to help - not like Merlin, who'd been sympathetic but too infuriatingly cryptic and evasive to be any real comfort. "It's Morgana." Gwen detailed the changes in her mistress since she'd come back to work and the toll it was taking on their friendship, ending with, "I used to know her so well, and now I can't begin to guess what's going on in her mind these days."

"It can't be that hard; I'm usually convinced there's nothing going on in there at all."

"Sire!"

"I'm sorry, Guinevere. I wish I could help, but I haven't noticed anything. Morgana seems exactly the same as ever. I mean, she is less anxious now, but that's only to be expected now that Merlin's put a stop to the magical disturbances in her bedchamber."

"And she's very tight-lipped about how he managed that," Gwen muttered. "I suppose you wouldn't have noticed the things I have, since I'm the one with her at all hours of the day and night." She froze, her lips forming an O as the words jogged something from her memory.

"Guinevere?"

"Last night - I just remembered that last night I thought I heard Morgana getting up, but I was only half awake, so I assumed I was dreaming."

"You think Morgana went out last night?"

"Perhaps. As I said, I could have been dreaming."

"Here's what we'll do, then," Arthur said in the same tone he used for plotting military campaigns. "Tonight we'll keep watch on her, and if she leaves at a suspicious hour, we'll follow her. If she's sneaking out at night, it's my duty as her chaperone to find out why."

Just then, a scuffle at the gate caught their attention. Gwaine, barefoot and wrapped in a guard's spare cloak, was being marched in by a pair of guards who had been patrolling the city. Apparently they had found him outdoors without a stitch of clothing on, and when a breeze ruffled his cloak Arthur and Gwen saw that he was not in fact wearing anything underneath. Arthur pushed Gwen behind himself to shield her from the sight.

After Gwaine had been taken away so he could get dressed before being put in the stocks for indecent public exposure, Arthur said, "You see Guinevere, no matter how bad a day you think you're having, there's always someone worse off."

**Poor Gwaine. Someday I'll stop picking on him…but not today. **

**Next up: Arthur tries to spy on Morgana, which won't work because she's much smarter than him, but at least he'll get some quality time with Gwen. Also, Morgana questions Merlin's relationship with Nimueh.**


	42. Midnight Magic

_Merlin, can you hear me? I need you!_

Merlin lurched to a halt, grabbing his head. Morgana had made great progress at speaking to other sorcerers through her mind, but her mastery of it was far from perfect; she poured too much energy into projecting her thoughts when trying to communicate over long distances, wielding magic that should have the fine point of a needle like an anvil. Being contacted by her in this way even felt like being hit over the head with an anvil. _I hear you,_ he assured her when he could form coherent thoughts again. _I'm on my way._

Tracking Morgana's thoughts to their source was easy; Merlin found her in the corridor near her chambers, standing over the unconscious bodies of Gwen and Arthur. "Ah, Morgana, is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"They tried to follow me when I left to meet you and Nimueh," she explained, sounding simultaneously irritated and distressed.

"So you knocked them out?"

"I didn't know what to do! They were spying on me, and I couldn't let them discover where I was going - I'm not ready for them to find out about my magic, and certainly not like this…"

Merlin patted her back reassuringly. "It's all right; they aren't injured. I'll take care of this. Can you help with a levitation spell?"

Together, he and Morgana moved Arthur and Gwen to a secluded alcove where they were unlikely to be found before they awoke. Then he placed his hands on their foreheads and began an incantation. "What are you doing?" Morgana asked.

"Making them forget about spying on you. They'll think they were just talking here and fell asleep…unless you'd like me to make them remember something else? A midnight tryst, maybe?"

"Heavens, no! Then Gwen would know she'd been enchanted, because she would never be interested in Arthur if she were in her right mind."

"All right then." Merlin refrained from adding anything romantic when he altered Arthur's and Gwen's memories, but he couldn't resist posing Gwen with her head on Arthur's shoulder and putting Arthur's arm around her.

"Merlin!"

"What? I think they look cute."

"You are incorrigible."

###

Morgana maintained her disapproving attitude throughout her lesson, which aroused Nimueh's curiosity, so Merlin explained what he'd done. Nimueh found it hilarious. "Merlin, you are incorrigible." She said it more affectionately than Morgana had, as if she thought his mischievous tendencies endearingly charming.

"Well, I tried being well-behaved once, but it was boring."

Nimueh appeared skeptical. "I don't believe that."

"It's true; I was perfectly obedient when I was about three years old, or so I'm told. Apparently my mother was the only one who could ever really make me behave myself."

"I certainly never could - I trust you recall the incident involving a frog infestation in Finna's bedchamber?"

"I remember that you were furious."

"Oh, Merlin, I wasn't truly angry with you. Of course I couldn't let you get away with such misbehavior, but privately I thought that dried-up old hag needed her feathers ruffled…and I was proud that you were the only one of our students who wasn't too cowed by authority to do such a thing."

Nimueh ran her hand down his sleeve, stroking his arm, and the candles on which Morgana was practicing conjuring fire suddenly erupted in towering flames that consumed the tallow almost instantly. Crying out in surprise and alarm, she quickly backed away. Merlin automatically began speaking the words that would quench the fire, but Nimueh took hold of his wrist and forcefully lowered his hand before he finished the spell. "Let the Lady Morgana do it. She must learn to rectify her own mistakes."

Morgana drew in a deep, shaky breath, extended her hand, and incanted, "_I__nvadit __et igni__s_," producing no effect whatsoever.

"Stronger intent," Merlin whispered.

Frowning in concentration, Morgana thrust out her hand again. "_Invadit et ignis_!" The fire died, and Morgana instinctively glanced at her more experienced fellow sorcerers to see if they had any comments or advice.

Nimueh still had Merlin by the wrist, and was now rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb…and he wasn't pulling away. Morgana's smile disappeared as swiftly and completely as the flames. "Very well done, Lady Morgana," the High Priestess said, those luscious scarlet lips of hers forming a satisfied smile. She must not have noticed Morgana's reaction to her contact with Merlin - or perhaps she had.

"Thank you. Will that be all for tonight? I really don't feel I can continue any longer," Morgana said woodenly. Nimueh dismissed her, and she walked out slowly, her spine held stiffly erect, refusing to show any outward sign of distress until she was far enough down the winding stairs that she didn't think Nimueh and Merlin could hear her. Then she increased her pace.

She remembered Freya telling her about the rumor that Merlin had been in love once, and now she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that Nimueh was the woman he'd loved. That was all well and fine, if only she could be sure those feelings were firmly in the past where they belonged, but after what she'd just seen Morgana wasn't convinced that such was the case. If Merlin no longer had feelings for Nimueh, why did he let her hold his hand? _I thought that was something he only did with me…unless he's already done it hundreds of times with _her_._

Was there anything he hadn't already done with her? Every time he rode horses with Morgana, or took her for walks, or danced with her, or practiced magic with her, did he think, _This I did with Nimueh, and this, and this,_ and wish it was still her by his side? How often did he compare them, even if it was purely subconscious? Such a comparison wouldn't be difficult to make; catching her reflection in a window she passed, Morgana realized that she and Nimueh even looked somewhat alike, with their pale, smooth skin, long, wavy black hair, and light-colored eyes. Nimueh's eyes were fierce and penetrating, though, like shards of ice, whereas Morgana's were a soft green that was probably about as penetrating as moss.

She turned away from the window, not wishing to see how closely her face resembled that blasted priestess's any longer. Noting the similarities between them forced Morgana to consider that any attraction Merlin felt toward her might be predicated on her likeness to Nimueh, and she didn't care for that one little bit.

Being compared with other women had never bothered her before because such comparisons were bound to be favorable, but this time it looked as if she may have met her match. Nimueh was her equal in beauty, brains, and breeding (the three things noblemen looked for in a wife, though most were perfectly content to make do with a woman who possessed only two of those qualities), as well as being much more worldly and having command of magic Morgana couldn't even imagine yet. She was the High Priestess of the Old Religion - and since Merlin belonged to the Old Religion, didn't that technically make him her subject, in a sense?

_How much simpler it would have been if he really did have feelings for Freya, as I first suspected! Given some time, I could have shown him I was the better choice… What can I offer him that _she_ cannot? There truly is no reason for him to prefer me over her, is there?_

Morgana reminded herself that _she_ was Merlin's fiancée, not Nimueh; however, the fact that she would have his ring on her finger in less than two months' time did not mean she would ever have his heart, especially not if it was already in someone else's keeping. And if he _didn't_ still love Nimueh, why had he accepted such an overly familiar gesture from her?

"Morgana! Hey, Morgana!"

Glancing up, she saw Merlin jogging toward her. Though part of her wanted to walk away, she remained standing where she was until he reached her and came to a somewhat clumsy dead stop.

"Is everything okay? You walked out sort of abruptly…"

"I thought you and Nimueh might like to be alone together."

"Huh?"

Merlin appeared bewildered, which only provoked Morgana further. "I saw her holding your hand, as I do, and you let her! So the rumors about why you never show any interest in women are true; I preferred the version in which you found it hard to love again after your mother's tragic demise, yet you _did_ love another woman after her, didn't you? It was Nimueh."

The blood drained from Merlin's face at her mention of Hunith's death, chilling his skin. How was it that a few words from this girl could make him feel so warm inside at times, yet so cold at others? "You don't know what you're talking about. My feelings for her are much more complicated than you make them out to be."

Hearing about the depths of his undying devotion to his High Priestess was the last thing Morgana wanted, yet her self-destructive side - undoubtedly the same part of her that had nearly caused her to magically self-immolate - wouldn't let her stop pouring salt on her wounds. "Explain them to me, then. Explain how we are supposed to be married - by her! - when you still feel so strongly for her!"

"I will, but only if you calm down. I don't want a shouting match with you, Morgana."

Breathing as hard as a horse after a gallop, she literally bit her tongue as she glared at him. She wanted to yell and fume over her wounded pride, but Merlin's cool stare was like water thrown on the raging bonfire of her temper. Morgana shrank into herself as the flames sputtered out, her breath evening out and her gaze automatically dropping to the floor. "Very well, my lord. I shall hear whatever you wish to tell me."

Merlin forced himself not to react to the formal address; once she knew all of his history with Nimueh, he might have to get used to regularly hearing expressions of impersonal politeness from her lips.

"I do have strong feelings for Nimueh, but they aren't…romantic. As I've told you before, I was sent to study with her when my magic grew beyond what anyone here could teach me to control. After what you've been through, you know something of how it tormented me, except I never got an entire day's reprieve between incidents - it was like a living thing inside me, trying to claw its way out through my skin, and I wasn't able to focus it. The first large-scale, destructive manifestation of my magic came on the day my mother died, when I was _five years old_; after that it kept happening whenever I got upset, or scared, or sad... Father helped me manage for a few years, even though carrying on without Mother was hard for him too; losing her made him very protective of me, so he kept me by his side constantly."

Little Merlin hadn't minded - he'd actually insisted on sitting on the king's lap whenever possible. Balinor's arms around him felt different from Hunith's, but it was better than having nobody to hug him. Additionally, the scratchy beard that he'd once found so intimidating, thinking it made his father look like a hairy bear, and shied away from when the king tried to kiss him, now provided a curtain under which he could hide his face by snuggling into Balinor's neck. He was happy to be able to escape the stares of all the concerned lords and servants who fussed over him, wondering how their little prince was coping, and especially the overbearing ladies who seemed to feel it was their duty to fuss over him.

"Being with him usually kept me calm and content, but still, by the time I reached my twelfth birthday I thought the magic would drive me mad. Finally even Father saw no other recourse except sending me to the Isle of the Blessed. I was depressed about leaving home for the first time, and that's when I met Nimueh. She said she was intrigued by my potential, and the feeling was mutual. She knew more magic than anyone I'd ever met, did things with it I'd never seen - she was like a force of nature, and that power fascinated me...as did the woman who wielded it. Then she taught me how to harness my own magic, so of course I was more grateful to her than you can imagine."

Morgana wasn't so sure; she thought she'd experienced that level of gratitude when Merlin confirmed her half-formed suspicions about her magic, finally opened her eyes to Uther's deceptions, and put her fears to rest by vowing to protect her from her treacherous old oppressor and probable future would-be murderer. She also knew feelings of that magnitude could be forged into unbreakable loyalty to the one who had inspired them, because she had put her life in Merlin's hands and her trust in him hadn't wavered since.

"We spent nearly all our time together," he went on, "and when she was pleased with me she'd tell me about the days when she knew my mother. Except for my father, there was no one I felt closer to than her, no one who mattered more."

"Yet you claim not to love her?" Morgana questioned softly. Everything he'd just told her seemed to contradict that assertion.

"I can't deny that she had - perhaps still has - a powerful hold on me, one so strong that for a long time I believed I loved her. Then I learned how cruel she can be."

"She hurt you?"

Merlin smiled slightly at Morgana's incensed growl. "She did nothing - and nothing, it turns out, is the worst thing you can do to somebody. I always suspected she knew of my feelings, a suspicion she confirmed the night I requested her help in training you - I mentioned our past together and she never batted an eyelash, so obviously it was no surprise to her - but at the time she pretended not to notice. She wouldn't do me the courtesy of rejecting me outright so I could sulk over my broken heart and then move past her, but I'm sure she never wanted to be with me either. Perhaps she simply liked knowing she had that power over me…"

"That," Morgana said indignantly, "is horrible. That vicious harpy!"

"She's not _that_ bad. Nimueh isn't evil or malicious, but she can be selfish. It just isn't in her to put another person ahead of her own needs and desires. I suppose I still idolized her," he sheepishly admitted, "but once I stopped fooling myself into thinking she was perfect I realized I didn't love her. Maybe I never did. Not because she isn't perfect, but because it was a false _idea_ of her that I thought I loved, not the woman herself. You have to know someone in order to truly love them, don't you agree, Morgana?"

She nodded absently, her mind elsewhere. "Is that why you never found another? You'd…lost your confidence in your ability to see people for their true selves?"

"No, I think I'm a fairly good judge of character. You see, being so disenchanted was unpleasant, and if losing the illusion of love hurt so much, I knew losing the real thing would be worse. Besides, it seemed like too much trouble - all the rituals and trappings of courtship. _If _you could even find someone worth the trouble in the first place," he added.

"All women are not like Nimueh," Morgana said with a touch of sharpness.

"I'm aware of that. I don't mean to give the impression that I think badly of your gender," Merlin hastily assured her. "I just never thought I needed one - a significant other, I mean. But now here you are."

"I do hope my intrusion into your life of solitude hasn't been too substantial an imposition," Morgana said dryly.

Merlin laughed. "Not as bad as I feared, considering that I used to worry I'd have to marry some empty-headed nitwit. You were quite a pleasant surprise compared to what I expected."

"As were you; I used to have precisely the same worries. Of course Arthur's taunts about Uther finding a fat, hairy old man for me only made it worse."

"Yes, that would be awful. I suppose I was more fortunate in that regard, since most noblewomen don't let themselves get fat and hairy." After they laughed together over their narrow escape, Merlin said more seriously, "I meant it when I said there's no one I'd rather have by my side - not Freya, not Nimueh, maybe not even Arthur. Especially not Arthur - he isn't really my type. I wish you could believe that, Morgana."

"I agree completely; your differences may complement each other in matters of state, but I fear you and Arthur would make a terrible couple." Merlin just lifted his eyebrows while gazing steadily at her, wordlessly telling her that the moment for jokes had passed. "All right… What girl wouldn't feel insecure upon discovering she has a rival like Nimueh? Particularly when you and she are still so close even after she treated you so despicably."

"We're still friends," Merlin agreed. "As I said, Nimueh isn't perfect, but there is good in her too."

Morgana huffed and spun around, facing a tapestry depicting a knight battling a griffin. "I suspect she's interested in being more than your friend, Merlin."

"I know. She seemed to take our engagement as…not an insult, exactly, but a…challenge? She's accustomed to getting whatever she wants." He came up behind Morgana and rested his hands on her shoulders. "But I don't want you to worry about that. I'm no more interested in her than I am in Freya."

"Nimueh is a great deal more imposing than Freya. I shouldn't like to compete with her," Morgana murmured.

"There's no competition. I don't love her, Morgana. I will never love anybody else."

Her shoulders tensed under his fingers. "Does that include me? I wouldn't blame you if your experience with our lovely High Priestess left you wary of romantic entanglements, but I hope you know I'd never dream of treating you as she did."

"I know that. I know you're impulsive, hot-tempered, so prideful that it's ridiculously easy to offend you sometimes, even a little vain-"

"Merlin, while I'm pleased Nimueh cured you of the temptation to idealize people…" Morgana began.

"-But you are not selfish or cruel." Merlin turned her around to face him. "You're a better person than Nimueh has ever been, Morgana. As troublesome as love can be, you're definitely worth it."

"I've waited so long to hear you say that… I know I said we have plenty of time to move beyond friendship, but I had hoped we'd have progressed further by now. It's just that I received an update on my gown, which reminded me that our wedding day is getting closer, and-"

"Stop talking."

Morgana buttoned up her lips, an expression of consternation crossing her features. Merlin was looking very thoughtfully at her, or more specifically at her mouth, making her wonder if she had something on her face. Before she could ask, his fingers curled around her chin, making speech impossible. Merlin very deliberately tilted her head up and leaned in, as if to… _Oh. There must not be anything on my face then._ That was Morgana's last coherent thought before instinct took over; one hand found purchase on his shirt while the other found its way to the back of his neck, allowing her to play with his hair while she pulled him closer and-

The sound of footsteps heading in their direction reached them just before their lips met. Merlin and Morgana sprang apart. "Damn it!" she hissed.

"Shall we hide behind the tapestry?"

"Why? We're doing nothing wrong."

"But do you really want everyone speculating about what we were doing here at this hour?"

"Good point; the tapestry it is."

They ducked behind the thick wall-hanging, then peeked out to see who had interrupted their almost-kiss. The figure that swept past was shrouded in a silver cloak, but they caught a glimpse of red hair under the hood. "Was that-?" Morgana whispered.

"Lady Sirenia," Merlin confirmed in a hushed undertone in case she was still within earshot. "I wonder why she's out so late."

"A secret meeting with her latest hapless quarry, most likely. Though if she wanted to keep it secret, she shouldn't have worn such noisy shoes. I'm amazed she hasn't woken half the castle!" Morgana scoffed, furious that, just when Merlin was ready to kiss her at last, that harlot had ruined the moment.

She hoped they could pick up where they'd left off once Sirenia was out of the way, but Merlin didn't seem to be in the mood for that anymore; he was staring off in the direction the red-haired witch had taken, his brow furrowed.

"Merlin?"

He shook his head, turning back to her as if he'd just remembered she was there. "It's getting late; we should return to our chambers. Neither of us will be getting much sleep tonight."

**So, who wants to strangle me right now? I know you've been looking forward to the first kiss, and this would've been an okay place for it…just not the best place. After all, even if they have been hinting strongly that they're falling for each other, neither one has actually managed to spit it out in so many words. At least now Morgana knows everything about Merlin's not-romantic relationship with Nimueh - and I promise there are no more girls that he's unusually close to - and he admitted that she's worth the hassle of dating. Unlike with Nimueh, he knows Morgana's vices as well as her virtues, and he still loves her the way he never has or will love anyone else. I hope that's enough Mergana progress to save me from a reader rebellion over the kiss!fail.**


	43. The Sorceress' Gambit

**Warning: MAJOR cliffhanger ahead! Probably the most major one since Edwin poisoned Morgana or the one where she woke up with her bed on fire…so I'll shut up now and let you read it, shall I?**

Morgana felt as if she'd barely lain down to sleep when Gwen appeared and shook her awake. "Morgana, wake up! I've let you sleep as long as possible, but you really do need to get up now. You're having your wedding gown fitted in fifteen minutes!"

Morgana's eyes shot open. "Good Lord, Gwen, why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"I tried, my lady," the harried-looking maid explained. "You grumbled at me, rolled over, and went back to sleep."

Morgana remembered none of that, but nevertheless apologized for her surly behavior. She bounded out of bed and dressed in record time thanks to Gwen's very efficient assistance, then hurried down to her dressmaker's workroom, gobbling a few pieces of fruit from the breakfast tray Freya had brought on the way. Once there, she had to strip down to her shift and stand stock-still while Mistress Flora and her assistants draped yards of fabric over her. Some of it was still held together with pins rather than thread, and they poked her in very uncomfortable places. Morgana gritted her teeth and held herself motionless as a statue, and at last it was all over. An assistant helped her back into her clothes while Mistress Flora chattered away.

"…And you're such a good customer, dear, not like that awful Prince Merlin. Never can stay still more than five minutes at a time, and always complaining about how he doesn't need new clothes - if he could get away with it, he'd no doubt be happy to wear things until they're as ragged as a servant's clothing!" She tutted loudly. "Always insists on wearing that horrid black too, but never you worry, dear, I won't let his lack of taste spoil your wedding. I'll slip some color into his outfit whether he likes it or not!"

Morgana smiled. "I look forward to it."

Then she was whisked off to study with Theodosius, who said he thought she was ready for the royal council's entrance examination.

"Examination?" she repeated. With everything else that had been going on, she'd completely forgotten about that and had devoted most of her attention to her magic lessons, which were far more interesting.

The elderly historian's furry eyebrows bunched together, resembling two white caterpillars. "Of course, my lady, I told you of it when we first commenced our work together. We cannot simply allow any high-born cad to sit on the council, else the king would be getting advice from an assembly of imbecilic ignoramuses!"

"That would be an undesirable state of affairs indeed. When will the examination take place?"

"I shall schedule it at once, so it should be within the week."

"Excellent." _I had better start brushing up on Dagon's law and economic concerns right away._

###

Morgana's favorite princes - though she insisted that term was only loosely applied to Arthur - met her outside the library. Her heart skipped when she saw Merlin, but she ordered it to calm down; he was definitely not going to kiss her in front of Arthur. "Hello, boys. What brings you here?"

"I wanted to give you these." Merlin held out his hand, which had been hidden behind his back, presenting her with a bouquet of red and yellow roses, violets, and carnations.

Morgana gasped. "Merlin, these are gorgeous! What's the occasion?"

"Do I need a reason to give you flowers? But if you want one, they're to congratulate you - Father told me he heard from Theodosius that you've completed your education."

"Now you get to spend all day drafting laws and calculating tax revenue in a stuffy chamber with stuffy old lords," Arthur interjected. "Though I suppose it'll seem exciting to someone whose principal hobby used to be brushing her hair."

"Scoff all you like, Arthur, but the council's work is important. When you have a king who's only interested in hunting and hitting things with swords, _someone_ must attend the business of the kingdom."

"You'll be the one with all the real power then, while Merlin learns to hit things with a sword instead of just waving it around blindly and hopefully not taking anyone's head off."

"I wasn't talking about him," Morgana said pointedly.

"And I've never taken off any heads I didn't mean to," Merlin muttered.

"Does that mean you've done it intentionally?" Before Arthur could ask who or what Merlin had decapitated, Gwen joined them. The prince of Camelot and the maid became tongue-tied upon seeing each other, and Arthur suddenly remembered he had urgent business elsewhere and rushed off.

"What was that about?" Merlin wondered aloud, studying Gwen as if she might provide some clue to her and Arthur's strange behavior.

Gwen blushed and squirmed under his scrutiny, so Morgana decided to rescue her. "Gwen, aren't these flowers Merlin gave me lovely? Would you put them in water for me, please?"

"Of course, my lady, right away."

Morgana handed over the flowers, freeing her hands, which she then placed on her hips as she fixed Merlin with a stern glare. "Are you positive you didn't put any memories you shouldn't have into Gwen's and Arthur's heads last night?"

"No - I mean yes, I am positive; I didn't create any false memories at all. All I did was make them forget seeing you leave your chambers and getting knocked out when they tried to follow you. Then I suggested a different reason for why they were there and let their minds do what they would with it. That's the best way to alter memories, you know; I could have invented an entire conversation, but my idea of what Arthur and Gwen might say to each other wouldn't feel as real as if I let them come up with it themselves. If they think something embarrassing happened between them, it's their doing, not mine."

Morgana found that piece of information extremely disturbing.

###

The very next day, she was tested by Balinor and three of his highest-ranking council members, who found that her knowledge of Dagon's infrastructure was sufficient for her to make decisions affecting it. She would therefore be part of the next meeting of the royal council. She stood there for a moment as her examiners got up to leave, the nervous anticipation draining out of her. After all the preparation and anxiety leading up to this examination, it seemed to go by remarkably fast. Then it finally sank in that she had passed the test - she had earned her place on the council, she was going to have real power in her new kingdom, and nobody would ever again see her as merely a pretty face with nothing of substance behind it - and elation filled the void left by her vanished nerves.

Someone took hold of her arm as if to hold her down in case she gave in to the temptation to jump for joy - not that she would ever do something so undignified anywhere she might be seen - and she raised her eyes to meet Balinor's. "Congratulations, Lady Morgana."

"Thank you, my lord. I can hardly believe it's over, much less that it ended so well after I was up all night agonizing over it."

Balinor laughed. "You're too modest; I've known for a long time that you have the makings of a great leader. You'll be a valuable asset to this kingdom. And you should know that no prospective councilor sleeps the night before their examination. They all seem to have it in their heads that it's some harrowing ordeal."

"You think otherwise?" Morgana asked incredulously.

"Now that I'm the one administering it, I do. I still haven't forgotten when it was my turn to prove that I understood the kingdom I was to inherit one day. I spent the night before in a cold sweat, convinced I was going to humiliate myself in front of my future subjects," the king admitted.

Morgana stared up at him in awe mixed with admiration, impressed that he'd made such a confession. She couldn't recall Uther, the only other king she knew well, ever admitting to feeling unsure of himself; prior to meeting Balinor, she'd thought kings were born with some sort of brain defect that made them immutably convinced they were always right. For that matter, future rulers in Camelot weren't required to show that they were ready for the responsibility that came with their crown.

She supposed that was fortunate for Arthur, who wouldn't survive poring over books of law and history as long as she had. Still, she had to admit that Arthur's heart was in the right place even if his head was full of sawdust; there were worse people who could inherit the throne of Camelot. _I just hope for the people's sake that he has competent advisors…perhaps I'll suggest implementing a similar system to what they have here…_

She left the council chamber on Balinor's arm and was immediately pulled away by Merlin, who swept her into a hug so tight it left her breathless. "Congratulations, Morgana! I knew you could do it!"

"Hold on, son, I haven't told you if she passed the test yet."

"Well, I may have used a spell that let me hear through the wall," Merlin confessed, turning a somewhat sheepish but mostly unrepentant grin on his father. Balinor looked disgruntled at being deprived of the chance to deliver the good news personally. "It was all I could do not to tell you the answer when you forgot what to do if you find yourself in a room with a priestess of our order and a priest of the Catha."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Balinor growled.

"Relax, Father, I didn't give her any help."

"Out of curiosity, what _does_ one do if they should find themselves in the same room with a priestess and one of those Catha people?" Morgana asked.

"Find a table to hide under," Merlin said promptly. "Listen, you've worked so hard for this; now that it's over, what do you say we go for a ride, just you and me? And Gwen?" he quickly added when he saw the look on Balinor's face.

"I would like that very much." Arthur would trust Gwen to chaperone them, but she wouldn't be as obnoxious about it as he would. "Shouldn't we invite your father to join us, though?"

"That's very generous, but I have to decline; a king's work is never done. Enjoy having the freedom to ride out whenever it suits you while it lasts."

###

The woods were refreshingly cool and open after all the time Morgana had spent cooped up inside stone walls, and she was overjoyed to at last escape the castle's confines. More than that, she was happy to be with Merlin and Gwen, who stayed within sight of them but kept her horse back enough that she wasn't in their way; Morgana almost forgot she and Merlin weren't the only ones trotting along the sun-dappled woodland trail.

"This is wonderful, Merlin. Thank you."

"You're pleased?"

"Without a doubt. Are you?"

He smiled contentedly. "If you're happy, then so am I. Watch out for that branch!" Merlin pulled his black stallion to a stop and stood in his stirrups to lift a low-hanging tree limb that was about to snag Morgana's hair.

She rode under it, circled Justinia around, and curtsied as best she could while sitting in her saddle.

Merlin plucked off a few pink apple blossoms before releasing the branch. "A humble token of my admiration for your ladyship," he said playfully.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she replied in the same tone of mock formality as she arranged the blossoms in her hair. Perhaps pink wasn't such a ghastly color after all…

Gwen's horse trotted up and thrust its nose into the air between them, spoiling the moment with an impolitely loud snort. "My lady, sire, what do you suppose that is?" Gwen asked, frowning as she pointed at something ahead of them.

Merlin and Morgana looked where she was pointing and saw a large, ragged-looking black bundle at the base of a pine tree. "I can't tell from here…" Morgana nudged Justinia farther along the trail, and Merlin followed, albeit reluctantly. Although he didn't know why, that odd black shape made him uneasy. As she got closer, Morgana thought she heard a faint moan. "My God, I think it's a person!"

She dismounted and ran over to help. The bundle turned out to be an old woman whose stick-thin body was almost totally concealed in the folds of her tattered black cloak. "Help me," she whispered weakly.

Morgana put an arm around her and helped her stand, taking most of her weight when it became clear that the old woman's legs could barely hold her. "What happened to you? Merlin, come here and help!"

The hairs on Merlin's arms and the back of his neck were standing on end; all his senses told him this was a harmless old woman, possibly the victim of some bandit's attack, and he knew objectively that he _should_ help her, yet every fiber of his being resisted taking even one step closer. All he wanted to do was snatch Morgana up and get as far from the old woman as possible.

"Merlin, what is wrong with you? Come _here_!" Morgana turned around to see what was keeping him. The instant her back was turned, a flash of gold lit the old woman's eyes, and Morgana collapsed against her, unconscious.

Fast as quicksilver, the old woman - who had suddenly found the strength to not only stand unassisted, but to support Morgana as well - pulled a knife from under her cloak and pressed it to the vein in the side of Morgana's neck.

"Unhand her!"

"I think not. Off your horse, Prince Merlin - _now_," the woman commanded in a voice that didn't sound like it should belong to someone of her age. She divested herself of her shabby cloak with a shrug, revealing an elegant crimson and silver gown underneath. The years fell off her just as easily; her gray hair transformed into glowing blonde curls, and her weathered skin became smooth and unlined. Under her disguise, she was as beautiful as any woman could ever hope to be.

"Who are you?" Merlin demanded.

"I am Queen Morgause of Escetia, and you are now my prisoner. Dismount _this very second_, or I shall slit your beloved's throat."

Merlin obeyed at once; Queen Morgause's blade was so close to Morgana's skin that even if he forced Morgause to drop it or summoned it to him, it would probably still open Morgana's veins. Besides, if the tales he'd heard about the fearsome sorceress who had been cast out of the order of the Old Religion because of her unbridled lust for power and disregard for the people she hurt in her quest to obtain it had any truth to them, she might be able to counter any move he made. A woman like her wouldn't have come to capture him without a plan in case he resisted.

"Good." Still holding Morgana and her knife with one arm, Morgause reached a gloved hand into a pouch belted around her slim waist, removed a gleaming set of manacles, and tossed them at Gwen, who had dismounted and moved to Merlin's side despite not having received any orders. "Put these on him, girl."

Gwen looked uncertainly from Morgause, to the chains, to Merlin. She didn't want to restrain him, yet she understood that Morgana's safety depended on it. She just hoped he wouldn't put up a fight, because she didn't think she could chain him by force.

To her relief, Merlin took off his riding gloves and held his hands out. "Do it, Gwen."

She snapped the first cuff onto his wrist as gently as possible, but the sorcerer still hissed in pain. "Sorry, is it too tight?" She was too afraid to even register how absurd apologizing for not binding Merlin's hands comfortably enough was.

"No, it's not that." His eyes were clenched shut as if trying to block out what was happening. "These chains were made to bind a person's magic, not their body, and it hurts."

"It will feel like a gentle spring breeze compared to what I have in store for you," Morgause snapped. "Finish it, unless you wish to see this forest painted red with the Lady Morgana's blood."

Merlin winced. "Hurry up, Gwen, please."

"Are you sure? Without your magic, you'll be powerless against her!"

"She has Morgana; I'm already powerless. I can't retain my freedom at the cost of Morgana's life. Put the other one on!"

Gwen locked the second shackle around Merlin's wrist, and his magic, which had fought to escape while it still could, retreated into him. He could feel it writhing desperately under his skin, but he could no more let it out than he could break down a dungeon wall with his bare hands. He was trapped, caged, and, as Gwen had said, completely powerless. Merlin had never felt this way before, and it was terrifying - but at least Morgana was safe. "You have me; now let Morgana go," he demanded, struggling to keep his voice from shaking and betraying how much having his magic bound hurt.

"I think not," Morgause said again with a malicious smile. "Morgana will be coming with us. Don't worry; I have no intention of harming her." Her brown eyes wandered to Gwen and fixed on her for the first time. "I suppose I may as well take the girl too - Morgana will need her maid. Come here, both of you." She put away her knife, apparently confident that she no longer needed Morgana as leverage to ensure Merlin's and Gwen's compliance. "Closer."

They came near enough to touch her, which Merlin deduced was so that she could more easily cast a transportation spell on them. "Where are you taking us?"

Morgause turned to look at him, and the dark intent in her eyes made him shiver. "Why, Prince Merlin, I am taking you into oblivion."

**Just to clarify, Morgause did not mean she's going to kill Merlin when she said she's taking him into oblivion - she has much more horrific things than death planned for our beloved warlock. So…Morgause! The major villain has finally arrived to wreak havoc! Don't you just love how I gave Mergana a romantic moment together, then promptly crapped all over it by introducing an evil sorceress? I have such fun destroying my favorite characters' happiness…**

**Next up: Morgause whisks our heroes off to her castle of horrors and starts in on Merlin. Don't worry, I promise there'll be no torture porn; the whump is more emotional than physical. And what will Morgana think when she wakes up?**


	44. The Gilded Cage

**Warning: minor death in the beginning (but I don't think you'll mind too much), weird magic, large amounts of info to process, and Morgause is a huge jerk.**

Morgana opened her eyes to the soft glow of candlelight, which confused her - her most recent memory was of riding through a forest in broad daylight. Her confusion sharpened into dread when she saw that the unfamiliar place in which she found herself wasn't lit by candles because it was nighttime, as she had initially assumed, but because there were no windows or doors through which sunlight could enter. Although the room appeared to be a luxuriously appointed bedchamber, Morgana's intuition told her it was actually a prison cell.

"Hello?" she called out apprehensively. There was no answer, and her fear transformed into anger. She was the Lady Morgana, ward of the king of Camelot and soon to be the princess of Dagon; how dare someone kidnap and imprison her, then have the audacity to _ignore_ her? "Hello! Show yourself, you coward!"

"There's no need to shout." Sirenia of Stonecliff appeared seemingly out of thin air, her lips curled into an unpleasant smirk. "How nice it is to see you again, Lady Morgana."

"You! How-?" Morgana was almost dumbstruck; she'd once suspected the red-haired witch of plotting to poison her, but when she turned out not to be behind that attempt on her life, Morgana had decided Sirenia wasn't capable of aggressive actions on such a grand scale. "How did you manage this?"

"I had a little help," Sirenia reluctantly admitted.

Another woman entered by the same mysterious means as Sirenia, a gorgeously regal brown-eyed blonde whose appearance sent shivers up Morgana's spine. "It was more than a little help. She is not the architect of your present situation, my dear. I am."

"Who are you?" Morgana whispered. Her reaction when Morgause introduced herself was similar to Merlin's, though for different reasons; he knew Morgause as a ruthless warrior and witch, whereas Morgana only knew that Escetia was an enemy of Camelot, perhaps even its worst enemy now that Camelot and Dagon were on better terms. On a personal level, that made Morgana and Morgause enemies as well.

"You needn't fear me, dear girl. I would no sooner harm you than myself."

"You mean to say you intend to keep her locked up in this tower forever?" Sirenia asked, perplexed.

Morgause rounded on her, snarling, "What I do with her is none of your concern!"

Sirenia shrugged. "You're right, I don't care what happens to her as long as I get what you promised me. I've done everything you asked - I've spied for you and even enchanted one of Merlin's idiot servant friends to make him suggest taking Morgana on a ride-" She sniffed, offended at having to waste her magic on a worthless, smelly servant who stank of horses and ale "-and now I want my reward. You still haven't told me how you plan to make the stupid prince marry me and do away with the old dragonlord so I can take the throne of Dagon."

By now Morgause was grinding her teeth so hard her jaw ached, something she'd done so often since enlisting her latest spy that she was amazed they hadn't worn down to nubs - she had lost count of the number of times she'd had to endure Sirenia's petulant demands. Fortunately, with Merlin and Morgana in her grasp, she didn't need to endure them any longer. With a flash of her eyes, Sirenia's neck snapped so violently that her head ended up facing backward.

Morgana clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle a cry of shock and horror; although she could have happily murdered Sirenia herself after hearing her say those vile things about Merlin and Balinor, she hadn't been prepared to see Morgause do it, especially not since she and Sirenia were supposed to be in league.

"Please forgive that interruption," Morgause said politely, casually nudging Sirenia's corpse aside with the toe of her gold-embellished shoe as she came closer to the bed where Morgana sat. "The little wench won't trouble us again."

"Why are you doing this? What do you want with me?" Morgana asked, fighting to stop her eyes from filling with tears. How had she gone from an idyllic afternoon ride with Merlin to being trapped with this cruel woman? What had she done with Merlin and Gwen? Were they even still alive?

"I want you to join me in bringing about the fall of Uther Pendragon."

"Why would I do that? Uther took me in after my parents died; he's been like a father to me." She was still furious with him over his role in her parents' deaths - he was directly responsible for her mother's execution, which, thanks to Merlin, Morgana now understood had _not_ been in the interest of saving Vivienne's soul or serving any other sort of greater good, and the blame for Gorlois' death could be laid at his feet as well since the pain of losing his wife, even after she'd betrayed him, had slowly killed his spirit. Uther's failure to provide reinforcements in time after ordering Gorlois into battle had been the final blow, though in the years after her father's death Morgana had sometimes wondered if he could have survived if he'd only fought harder, which he might have done if he'd had a wife to come home to. However, Morgana had decided that if and when she struck back at Uther, it would be on her own terms. She certainly wasn't interested in joining Morgause; Sirenia's swift demise had shown that Morgause viewed her allies as disposable assets who should not be allowed to outlive their usefulness.

"Is that so? Then why have you not confided your dreams to him? Deep down you must have sensed that his attachment to you is not so strong; if not, you surely know it now. What sort of father sells his child to his enemy for his own gain?" Morgause asked slyly.

Morgana wasn't listening; she was frozen in a combination of astonishment and fear. "How do you know about my dreams?"

"A prophetic talent as extraordinary as Lady Vivienne's must have manifested in at least one of her daughters."

"My mother had only one…daughter…" Morgana's voice trailed off as Morgause sat down beside her and folded her hands in her lap. Her sleeve rode up slightly, and her bracelet caught Morgana's eye. "Where did you get that? Why do you wear the symbol of my father's house?"

Morgause glanced down at it with some surprise, as if she had forgotten it was on her wrist. "This? It was given to me by Nimueh, High Priestess of the Old Religion. Originally a gift to Lady Vivienne from her husband Lord Gorlois, it was given to Nimueh for safekeeping, as was I, and she passed it to me because she thought it might ease the pain of exile if I had some token by which to remember my mother - our mother, Morgana."

Morgana recoiled. "Liar! You stole that bracelet, because my mother could not have given birth to you as well! I don't believe it!"

"I understand what a shock it must be to discover you are not an only child as you always believed," Morgause said sympathetically, "and I do not expect you to take my word for it. There are others who can verify the truth of my parentage."

"I'll ask Nimueh if you are telling the truth, then. I'll go to her at once if you would be so kind as to show me a door by which I might leave this room."

"I'm afraid that is impossible. You will see Nimueh when you and I take our rightful place as queens on the Isle of the Blessed, but for now it is safer for you to remain here. Escetia can be a dangerous land for outsiders." Morgause rose and made to leave.

Morgana leapt up as well. "Wait! What of Merlin and Gwen? Are they safe too?"

Morgause turned around and caught Morgana's chin in a powerful grip, stroking the younger girl's cheek with her thumb. "You needn't worry about Merlin, my dear. Uther was cruel to force you into an unwanted engagement with a stranger, but you are free of him now; you are free of all the men who sought to use you as a means to their own ends. It's best if you just put them out of your mind." She had never heard of the second person Morgana asked about, so Morgause decided that Gwen, whoever she was, must not be important. After all, she knew the names of every noteworthy sorceress and noblewoman in Albion, and there was no Gwen among them.

###

After Morgause left, there was nothing for Morgana to do except ponder her outrageous claim that they shared a mother. It was utterly ludicrous, of course - Morgana would know if she had a sister - yet there was a resemblance; Morgause's blonde curls were exactly the same shade and texture as Morgana recalled Vivienne's being in the days when she had perched on her lap and run her fingers through the silky tresses, dreaming of the day when she would grow to be as beautiful as her much-admired mother. Morgause also had Vivienne's grace and noble bearing, which Morgana herself often emulated. It wasn't definitive proof, but it was enough to sow a seed of doubt in Morgana's mind.

Additionally, Vivienne's extramarital affair was a well-known fact although she and her paramour must have tried to be discreet despite Gorlois being away on a long campaign in the distant northern plains at the time. They had to have been exposed somehow, and an illegitimate child would certainly have done that; the bastards of noble families were frequently sent away to be fostered far from their parents' homes, so that would explain Morgause's comment about living in exile too.

_Queen Morgause could very well be my half-sister, but there's only one way to be certain. I must ask Nimueh._ She wasn't willing to wait for release from her opulent prison, though, as she had a feeling she would be waiting a long time. Fortunately for Morgana, someone with her gifts didn't need to be physically near another person to talk to them. She had never before attempted mind-to-mind communication over such a long distance, but she needed to know if Morgause was telling the truth, and perhaps Nimueh could help her escape so she could search for her friends.

"_Permitte mihi loqui ad mentem, quam turpis quaero_!" As she understood it, this spell would give her a sort of vision - she had become quite skilled at controlling those - of Nimueh, but she would be able to speak with her instead of simply watching as she did in her regular visions. Morgana had scarcely finished the incantation when the room started to spin, and she felt herself falling… Then she was upright again and she seemed to be looking down at herself, sprawled in a tangled heap half on and half off the bed. Then that disconcerting scene dissolved and she found herself in another unfamiliar bedchamber, but unlike the one she was trapped in, this one was open and airy.

It contained only a bed, various magical objects, and a vanity at which Nimueh sat, brushing her hair. Morgana was amazed; somehow, she had never pictured the High Priestess doing something so ordinary. She hadn't pictured her living in a place like this either. _It isn't quite the austere, ominous fortress I imagined._

Nimueh pivoted on her low, cushioned seat, her eyebrows lifting slightly at the spectral form of Lady Morgana hovering in the air before her. It wasn't the strangest sight she'd ever beheld, but it was certainly unexpected. "Wherever did you get the idea that I lived in some dreary fortress?"

Morgana's ghostly mouth opened, but no sound came out; her words entered Nimueh's mind rather than her ears. _You heard that?_

"You are speaking to me through your thoughts, child; of course I hear them. If you didn't wish me to hear everything that passes through your mind, you should only have sent certain thoughts my way rather than projecting your entire consciousness, but I suppose such subtlety is still beyond you. This is an impressive accomplishment indeed for such an inexperienced witch, though," Nimueh grudgingly admitted. "I sense you have traveled far from your physical self."

_Yes, I'm in Escetia - Queen Morgause kidnapped me, along with Merlin and Gwen, and she won't say what she has done with them!_

Nimueh shot to her feet. "You are all in grave danger, then - at least Merlin is. You may not be, and your maid is of no use to Morgause, so she has probably already killed Gwen."

_No!_ Morgan's astral form blurred and wavered, her distress disrupting the concentration necessary to maintain her spell.

Nimueh added some of her own magic, stabilizing Morgana's mental projection. "Hold yourself together, girl! There is nothing you can do for Gwen now, and you'll be no good to Merlin if you go to pieces! Now, obviously she isn't keeping the two of you in the same dungeon-"

_But I'm not in a dungeon._ _She's put me in a luxurious room; I wouldn't even know I was being held prisoner if not for the absence of doors and windows. She said I must stay here for my own protection,_ Morgana scoffed.

"Yet she comes and goes as she pleases?"

_Yes, she and the Lady Sirenia - at least she came and went freely until Morgause killed her._

"I'm pleased to hear it - according to Merlin she was quite unpleasant. I hardly knew her, but I didn't like her either. Now, were you able to see the means by which Morgause entered your cell?" When Morgana shook her translucent head, Nimueh said, "Then the door is there, but hidden from you." She gave Morgana a spell to reveal it, and another to help her break enchantments designed to prevent her from passing through the door, if there were any. "You can remember all that, can you not?"

_I…I think so. It's getting hard to concentrate._

Nimueh nodded sagely. "You've tarried here too long. Separation of the mind and body is fraught with even greater dangers than the obvious problem of leaving your body in a highly vulnerable position. Go now, and do not use this enchantment again unless your need is dire."

_Wait!_ There was something else Morgana needed to know, some burning question she hadn't asked yet. _Morgause…Morgause claimed to be my sister. She said you know the truth of this. Tell me._

"Her claim is only half true. Vivienne gave birth to both Morgause and yourself, but you were not fathered by the same man." Sensing Morgana's anxiety and guessing the reason for it, Nimueh said, "Of course you are the daughter of Gorlois, else you would have been sent away like your bastard half-sister. How could you doubt it when you look so much like him?" She gestured at Morgana's thick coal-black hair and jade-green eyes, almost a perfect mirror image of Gorlois' most striking features.

Morgana relaxed; after discovering that she had the queen of one of Camelot's most pernicious adversaries, and a kidnapper and murderer to boot, for a sister, she didn't think she could bear any more disturbing revelations about her family. It would have been devastating to learn that her beloved father was not, in fact, her father. In her heart she had always felt that he was, but finding out about Morgause had cast a shadow of doubt over everything she thought she knew. Whatever else she felt toward Nimueh, Morgana was grateful to her for removing that shadow. _And her father?_

Nimueh sank back onto her stool, idly picking at an imaginary bit of fluff on her skirt. "He is already known to you. Morgause's father had to be a powerful man indeed, to tempt Vivienne into betraying her husband, though I never understood what she saw in him myself - in either of the men in her life, to be perfectly honest. Gorlois was a good man, but I found him dull and far too honorable, leaving his wife alone to fight his king's battles as often as he did. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to him that she ended up in the arms of another man…one whose own marriage was troubled by his wife's inability to provide the heir he craved…" She glanced up at Morgana's face to see if she'd succeeded in piecing the clues together.

She hadn't; by now it was taking all her concentration just to stay there. _Give me the wretch's name!_ she snarled.

Nimueh shook her head slowly as if pitying Morgana for her poor reasoning skills, but her mouth twisted into a cruelly triumphant smile as she spoke two words that would create an irreparable rift between Morgana and one of the most important men in her life. "Uther Pendragon."

The name penetrated Morgana's mind like a sword driven into her gut, shattering her tenuous grip on the magic that held her in Nimueh's room, breaking her into a thousand jagged shards of disbelief, horror, revulsion, and pain as she struggled to comprehend the extent of Uther's vile betrayal. He had sent his closest friend away, taken the opportunity to seduce Gorlois' lonely wife because he was dissatisfied with his own, then callously used the affair as an excuse to have Vivienne executed for her magic, all while escaping consequences for his villainy. The product of his indiscretion, Morgause, had been brushed aside as easily as he had cast off Vivienne when he was through with her, allowing him to carry on as if nothing had happened. Then, on top of everything else, he'd had the gall to take Morgana as his ward, acting like he was doing her a great kindness when he was to blame for her being orphaned in the first place!

As the scattered pieces of her consciousness reassembled and she opened her eyes, her mind once more anchored in its cage of flesh, blood, and bone, a single thought, a promise, an unshakable commitment took shape there: even though he didn't know it yet, Uther Pendragon was a dead man.

She couldn't worry about him right now, though, and pushed him to the back of her mind. Right now she could only think of Merlin, who Morgause could be torturing this very instant, and Gwen, who according to Nimueh was most likely… Morgana shook her head frantically to banish that unbearable notion before it became inescapably real. "No, she can't be," she sobbed. "Gwen, where are you!"

"Here, my lady." Gwen popped out of nowhere, looking somewhat the worse for wear but very much alive.

"Gwen!" The two girls seized and embraced each other within an inch of their lives, almost crying with relief. "I was so afraid that you were- That Morgause had-"

"I was afraid she was going to," Gwen confessed, "but she said you'd need your servant. She left me in some awful dark, dank cell - I could hardly see anything but I'm sure I heard rats - and said I was to stay there until you had need of me. I didn't know how I was supposed to attend you when there was no way out, but then I heard your voice and next thing I knew I was here… Morgana, Queen Morgause has magic," she added in a terrified whisper. "We've been kidnapped by a witch who's taken us all the way to Escetia, and nobody knows where we are, and what are we going to _do_?"

Morgana hugged her tighter. "Don't be afraid, Gwen, I won't let her harm you. She wants me to join her in conquering Camelot."

Gwen's jaw dropped. "That's absurd! What about Arthur, and all the innocent people who'd get hurt? How could she even think you would turn against people you've known all your life for _her_?"

"Because apparently, she is my half-sister." Morgana told Gwen what she'd learned about her mother's affair with Uther, leaving out the part where she had communicated with Nimueh via magic.

Gwen was thoroughly scandalized. "What a horrible thing for Uther to have done, and with his best friend's wife too! Oh my…this means Morgause is Arthur's half-sister as well. Poor Arthur!"

Morgana raised her eyebrows. "Arthur isn't the one trapped in her castle. Still, he'll be upset to learn of his father's infidelity, though if Morgause has her way I doubt he'll live that long. She means to take the throne of Camelot, and Arthur is an obstacle in her path." There was a horrified gasp from Gwen. "We must stop her, but first we need to find Merlin."

"How can we do that when I'm locked in my cell and you're in here?"

"I have a plan."

###

On her next visit, Morgause found Morgana looking much more composed. "Did you rest well, my sister?"

"Indeed. I wish to apologize for my behavior when last we saw each other. I was intolerably rude - I shouted at you and called you a liar." Morgana lowered her head, peeking up through her lashes as though she was too ashamed to look at Morgause head-on. "I saw the truth in a dream, and now I know you truly are the only family left to me in this world. I only hope you can forgive me for not trusting you at once…sister."

Morgause blinked to rid herself of a sudden burning sensation behind her eyes. She hadn't shed a tear for anyone in ages, but she was unprepared for the onslaught of emotion Morgana's acceptance brought on. They were sisters, the daughters of Lady Vivienne, the heirs to her powerful magic, so it was only right that they should stand together against the Pendragons' tyranny; Morgana also had connections within Camelot that could prove valuable for purposes of infiltration, therefore Morgause had sought her out and tried to win her over. She hadn't bargained on feeling anything for the girl - it had been so long since she had cared for anyone except herself - yet it seemed she did.

She didn't rush to embrace Morgana, but she did squeeze her hand. "There is nothing to forgive, my dear."

"You've been so good to me, taking me away before I was forced to marry Merlin or look upon that sniveling dog Uther again. You even brought Gwen along so I wouldn't have to adjust to a new servant."

"So that is the woman you inquired about? A serving girl? Morgana, your compassion is endearing but misplaced; such concern for servants is beneath us."

Morgana smirked inwardly; Morgause's attitude toward Gwen was exactly what she had anticipated, which made enacting their plan that much easier. "True, but she's been with me for years. Breaking in a new maid now would be most inconvenient. Serving me, procuring the things I need, would be easier if she was not imprisoned, though."

"You're suggesting I permit the girl free access to my castle?" Morgause asked incredulously.

"She is only a servant," Morgana said with a careless shrug, "and not even a particularly bright one. What trouble could she possibly cause you?"

Morgause acknowledged that she had a point - keeping Morgana confined until she was confident that she had the girl's loyalty, or at least until it was too late for her to interfere with her plans for Merlin, was an unfortunate necessity. The maid, however, could do nothing. "Very well," she said at last, "I shall release your maid," and Morgana breathed freely again.

###

Gwen raised her head at the sound of metal grinding against metal, and her eyes were assaulted by light streaming in through a cell door she was positive hadn't been there before. She could just make out a burly, armored form silhouetted in the blinding glow. The silhouette grabbed her and hauled her roughly to her feet. "Get up. The queen's ordered your release. You have work to do."

"Yes, sir," she babbled, "right away, sir. I know what my mistress wants me to do."

The guard grunted and walked away, and Gwen allowed herself a moment to lean against the damp, slimy stone of the dungeon wall and bask in her relief. Finally she was free of her dim, cramped cell, free of the unseen rats that occasionally bit her fingers and ankles, and now she could help Morgana. She was scared, but her release proved that Morgana was right - Morgause hadn't deemed her a threat and wasn't paying attention to her. Morgana had the harder job, pretending to be on Morgause's side until they were ready to make their escape. Gwen didn't think she could have done it; the sorceress was too frightening, and Gwen wanted to stay as far away from her as possible.

_I have to help Morgana get away from her too, before that awful woman forces her to do something terrible._ Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself away from the wall and set off in search of Merlin.

**So, recap/commentary:**

**1. The wicked witch (meaning Sirenia) is dead! Yes, we've put up with her all this time just so she could be Morgause's spy and then promptly die. My reasoning is that Morgause needed a spy, and there were no canon characters I could use for that sole purpose and then discard, so I created a disposable character nobody would care about. I know some of you were hoping she'd be around long enough to learn about Morgana's magic, which would've been fun, but killing her here showed Morgana how alliances with Morgause can be hazardous to your health, which I thought was more important.**

**2. Morgause is Uther's daughter instead of Morgana. It's a pretty significant departure from canon, but not the biggest one in this story. Poor Morgana's already been put through the wringer so much that I just couldn't bring myself to add the blow of finding out her beloved dad wasn't really her dad. Besides, in my opinion she and Arthur have a closer resemblance than him and Morgana, so I could believe they're siblings more easily.**

**3. Morgause's jerky attitude may seem over-sold, but I do have canon evidence: she killed Cenred, and she expressed contempt for Merlin because of his servant status more than once. The only person she really seemed to care about was Morgana, and I've tried to acknowledge that here, but she still cares about her plans for conquest more. Being exiled at birth, she's always had to look out for number one first, so she just doesn't know how to do anything else.**

**4. There is no #4, except that I'd love to hear your comments on the above issues, and please wish me luck on my final exams. Next time I update it'll be as a free woman, and then we'll find out what Morgause has done with Merlin. Till then, happy summer! **


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